


Destiel Drabbles Promptober 2018

by CastielsCarma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU-Matrix, Abusive Relationships, Alien Sex, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Amusement Parks, Anal, Angel Dean Winchester, Angel Michael (Supernatural), Archangel Castiel (Supernatural), Author!Castiel, Barista Dean Winchester, Buddhism-talk, Businessperson Dean Smith, Castiel is a wolf, Castiel's Wings, Cauliflower soup, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Corpses, Cowboy Castiel, Cowboy Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is not nice, Destiel Freeform, Destiel Promptober, Disney, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Drowning, Face Slapping, Fluff, Gnomes, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Guildhunter-inspired, Gun Violence, Halloween, Heroic Fantasy, Hogwarts, Human Castiel, Hunter Dean Winchester, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Inanimate Objects, Inspired by Princess Mononoke, It's a terrible life-episode, Jack kline - Freeform, Love Confessions, M/M, Mafia/cop, Mashup Cafe/Rockstar, Matrix-AU, Medic/Emt, Mutant Powers, Public Blow Jobs, Rand al'Thor - Freeform, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rockstar AU, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Star Trek References, Star Wars References, Tears, Verbal Humiliation, Wing Kink, Witch Curses, World War not the earthly kind, Young Castiel/Young Dean Winchester, Yôkai, Zombies, dean with wings, domestic bunker, humiliation as a kink, just fluff, kind of a creature, moviestar!dean, patron castiel, using the cane as a threat, wheel of time - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 53,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: This are drabbles for the Promptober Destiel style ( my first one! =))I will add a new chapter every day for the different prompts. The chapters will read as single stories and will not be connected. Read the tags (!) as they will change accordingly. Some will be smutty, some not so much. Enjoy!1. COFFEE SHOP2. CHILDREN3. VIDEO GAME4. MYTHOLOGY5. MEDIC/FIREFIGHTER6. VICTORIAN ERA7. HARRY POTTER8. ROCKSTAR9. 20'S/PROHIBITION ERA10. MASHUP   COFFESHOP/ROCKSTAR11. ENDVERSE S05E0412. COWBOY13. REVERSE14. DISNEY15. MAFIA/COP16. HEROIC FANTASY17. WING18. PIRATES19. IT'S A TERRIBLE LIFE-VERSE S04E1720. MASHUP     COP/WING21. X-MEN/MUTANT22. COLLEGE/TEACHER23. MATRIX24. GHIBLI25. WORLD WAR26. MAGICAL GIRL27. CREATURE28. STAR WARS29. STAR TREK30. MASHUP31. HALLOWEEN





	1. Time for you

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompt was coffee shop.
> 
> As always I enjoy comments. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, especially since I'm not a native English speaker.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This are drabbles for the Promptober Destiel style ( my first one! =))  
> I will add a new chapter every day for the different prompts. The chapters will read as single stories and will not be connected. Read the tags (!) as they will change accordingly. Some will be smutty, some not so much. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

****

# 

 It was the fourth time he was in the cafe this week, Dean Winchester noted, not two as usual. He was wondering what that meant as he poured a latte to a costumer. They had their regulars but those were usually a quick grab and go. This guy, Castiel, sat in the coffee shop for 90 minutes, no more and no less then that, reading intently in his book. Dean took the wrinkly dollar bills and handed back the change to the woman in front of him with a smile. His eyes swept over Castiel again. Black hair that was always disheveled which Dean found odd for a man - that he could gather from the brief encounters they'd had - always was impeccable and correct; well besides that black mess of a hair.

Castiel pushed the chair back and stood up. Dean glanced at the big old watch hanging on the wall. Only 50 minutes had passed so this was something new. He wiped his hands on the rag hanging from his belt and refilled a jar with fresh Java beans. Eyes of blue, Dean didn't really want to use the word ocean, cause that was really fucking cheesy, but nevertheless that was what came to mind. Not the good old touristy kind of water where everything was see through and colorful corals and soft sand under your toes. No, this was a slightly darker shade of blue, speaking more of ancient waters, murky depths that held secret treasures waiting to be explored. Dean licked his lips as his gaze took in the form of Castiel approaching. He wouldn't mind doing some exploring of his own.

“Hi. Can I have another double espresso, please?” There was a slight smile playing on Castiel's lips.

Dean schooled his face in one of perfect customer service, but his eyebrow apparently had a mind of its own as it rose up in surprise. He never ordered another coffee. Quickly smoothing his features into what he hoped was all sugar and cream, he smiled at Castiel.

“Of course, sir, a doppio it is. Anything else I can do you... for?” The pause was there if you paid attention and Dean figured this Castiel guy took in everything. He was fairly certain he saw Castiel narrow his eyes. Castiel's eyes went to Dean's name tag.

“No thank you, Dean. I am not one for sweet things. My taste is leaning more towards the bitter and salty side of matters.“

Dean smiled again. “One moment, sir. I need to grind some fresh beans for you.”

With that he turned his back on Castiel and went to the grinder. He inhaled as the scent of coffee beans hit his nose. That rusty and sharp smell of coffee-to-be never failed to invoke a sense of pleasure, safety and relaxation for Dean. Coffee was a drink gifted from the gods; properly prepared that was. The noise from the grinder shattered Dean's musings and soon the beans were ground down to a desirable size.

Packing the ground beans into the portafilter Dean slid it in the espresso machine's group head. He preferred the old fashioned way of making the black liquid, but who had time for that nowadays. Using a decoction required more nuance and skill; mud coffee was the way to go but not everyone appreciated the Turkish style or the grounds on the bottom.  
Dean grabbed a small cup and poured the coffee, watching it flow smoothly. Something prickled at his back, a notion of being watched. As he turned with cup in hand he could see Castiel watching him intently. Still he sported that half-smile, like he knew a secret Dean didn't. Dean wanted to ruffle his shirt or loose up his tie, maybe smear some cream on those lips. Anything to make Castiel jolt out of that air of correctness and order that he seemed to cloak himself in.

“Do you want some whip, sugar, cream in there, sir?” Dean asked, already knowing the answer. No reason not to be polite though. Being polite brought costumers back and if he was lucky some sweet tip. Castiel smirked and Dean resisted the urge to wink at him.

“Usually I would go for straight coffee but I think I will make an exception today. Heavy on the whip. Cream as a finish off would suit my needs I think.” He looked at Dean, raised eyebrow and a pregnant silence ensued, compelling him to answer.

Dean's heart was already beating faster and those blue eyes of Castiel did nothing to the push down the sudden desire that coursed through Dean. He racked his brain for a suitable answer but his mind had decided that an leave of absence was the best strategy when faced with the imposing, sexy creature that it knew as Castiel.

Castiel leaned forward slightly, his tie hoovering over the counter. “Are you not good at taking orders, Dean?” His voice was a whisper of a breath over Dean's skin.

Dean exhaled sharply, licking his lips. He searched Castiel's eyes for a hint of amusement -or worse mockery, but all he saw was curiosity and something heavy, a knowing waiting to reveal itself. Castiel leaned back, waiting with the patience of an angel.

“I do orders just fine, as long as they are topnotch.” Dean bent down, not waiting for an answer and grabbed the cooled decanter heavy with cream. A small drizzle and a teaspoon of cream mixed in, Dean was satisfied with his craft and handed the espresso over. Castiel took a sip of the coffee.  
“This coffee is subacid. Sugar usually masks the taste but not this time, Dean. A lack of expertise in the coffee domain is usually the culprick.”

“Excuse me?” Dean breathed out, unsure if his synapses were misfiring or not. He could not look away from Castiel's eyes. They were like blue pools of water, dragging him down with their weird intensity. Dean searched Castiel's very handsome face; at least he had that going for him. The straight nose, smooth skin and full lips, everything spoke of honesty and kindness. He must have misheard.

“Culprit, Dean. But I am confident that a heavy knowledgeable hand would correct that mistake. Mm?” Castiel downed down the rest of his espresso. “How much for the coffee?”

“That will be 4.50, sir.” Dean spoke hesitatingly, still trying to figure out if his mind had played tricks on him or not. Castiel gave him 10 dollars.

“Keep the change, Dean. I'm sure I will see you around.”

With that Castiel turned and strode out the of the coffee shop, door closing behind him with a thud. The hum of people talking, chairs clattering and coffee being brewed were all familiar sounds to Dean, but somehow all that was lost to him in the present moment.  
Looking down Dean saw a folded piece of paper inside the 10 dollar bill. Elegantly scribbled numbers and a simple _Call me _. Smiling, Dean folded the piece of paper and tucked into his pocket.__


	2. The light in your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when the kids are not alright?  
> You kill them.
> 
> (Today's prompt was "children". Heads up for violence in this one. Rating:Mature

He couldn't be sure about the age of the girl, she was short and that was all he needed to know. Luckily she was enthralled in her kind of play, probably new to it all so she wasn't scanning her surroundings. She really should have. 

Dean Winchester pulled the trigger and the bullet hit her in the back of the head. She dropped to the ground like a heavy sack of potatoes. Dean sighed. He could really take some potatoes right about now. Buttered ones, oven baked halves, mashed potatoes with butter or some really crunchy fries. Don't get him started on sweet potatoes though. That shit didn't earn it's potato-badge. 

In the beginning it was not the aiming that was hard, but actually commanding the fingers to pull the trigger. Well, the beginning was before and this was past middle and slowly creeping towards the end of fuck-all.

Walking up to her body he looked at her. She was laying face down, the entrance wound the only thing that whispered of things being amiss. Otherwise she could have been any kid, just laying down, taking a weird nap slumped over like a drunk little person. Kids were like that, especially toddlers. Falling over all the time, having fits of laughter over nothing and if not being hungry constantly then eating weird crap and puking their guts out. Dean turned the girl over. Her eyes were open, staring blankly at nothing at all. Dean pulled back some of the blonde strands of hair getting caught up in the blood. If you discarded the big ass hole in her forehead she was pretty. His eyes flickered down, took in her hands, the slight curve of her fingernails. It was a habit he couldn't stop doing. Even though he knew, he had to be sure, every fucking time. 

A dead cat lay next to her. Well the remnants of a cat. It was mostly matted fur, blood and entrails. Dean turned around and called out.

“Cas, get your ass over here!” 

There was movement behind a birch, much more a sapling then actual tree and Castiel started walking towards him. After a few steps, he increased his pace, running with purpose. His backpack bobbed up and down . He held another one in his hand. When he reached Dean he adjusted his hoodie that had fallen down, cloaking his black hair.

“You think she is...dead?” His eyes took in the stillness of the body, the blood, other things he didn't really like to talk about. 

“Sure fucking hope so.” Dean's voice trailed off. It was not like he took pleasure in this, he was just good at it. Someone had to be the breadwinner of the family. He smiled wryly at that. Fuck, he really missed bread.

This town was as safe as it could be, due to its relatively small size. Covering long distances took a while for shorter legs. The girl had been the first visitor in three weeks. That was always something to hold on to. 

“You recall that house we passed, Cas. With the lame ass plastic flamingo and equally lame plastic gnome?” 

Castiel wrenched his eyes away from the body, looked at Dean, a small smile on his lips. It died as he glanced back at the girl again. 

“Yeah Dean, let's try it out. Might be our lucky day.” He adjusted his backpack and stretched out his hand.

Dean grabbed the other pack, and hauled it across his back, adjusting the straps so it fit more snugly. 

“Come here, Cas.”

Castiel obeyed and fell into Dean's open arms. The stupid hoodie feel down and Dean nuzzled the side of Cas's face, feeling the warmth of his skin and the stubble scratching his cheek.

“You still have a decent razor, right?” Castiel just hummed a reply and Dean's mouth trailed down to Cas lips, kissing him gently. “Let's go.” 

They found each others hands, holding on tightly and started walking.

 

^^^

They didn't find potatoes or bread which was expected but at least they found food. Stocking up on canned meats pasta, vegetables, dried fruits and water until the zipper on their backpacks barely held, they lay slumped down together on the couch. 

Castiel's hand was lazily making nonsense shapes on Dean's arm. Taking another gulp of beer and sighing contentedly Dean squeezed Cas thigh. 

“Spit it out man, I know you. You have been itching to say something since the moment we stepped into this house.”

The soft touches on his arm stopped. Dean could feel Castiel tense up slightly.

“Do you think it's getting... better, Dean? You know how it is but lately things have seemed different. We don't see the them as often as before.”

Dean had considered that line of thought but quickly wrapped it up in three layers of denial and bitter resentment. Four years had passed. Sooner or later they should all be dead if people were doing their fucking duty instead of hiding.

“Mm”, Dean murmured and downed the rest of the beer. Wiping his mouth with his hand he kissed the top of Castiel's head. “I don't know Cas. You are right, there seems to be fewer kids around. Probably cause they are all dead. Good thing someone else is offing them too.”

Castiel turned slightly in Dean's lap so he could look up at him. His blue eyes, still filled with light despite all the horrors they had seen together, searched his face. Dean would do anything to keep that light from going out.

“You remember Ketch , Ash, and that old lady with a limp we saw a couple of weeks back in Newton?” 

Dean nodded and even though he knew where this was going he kept his face impassive.

“You know what they said. Before you jump and say hell no, think about it. We used to see a lot more adults running around but those encounters, they have dwindled.”

They had dwindled for sure, because all those adults were down six feet under, Dean thought. 

“Fine Cas. If you really want to find that Shangri-La with adults drinking tea and knitting we can. It will take time and hell of a planning but okay. For you.”

His hand went down and stroke Cas' forehead lightly, then softly caressed his nose. Leaning down to meet Cas' mouth, Dean inhaled as Cas opened his lips. Their kiss was soft, comforting in a world where everything had gone to shit.

Castiel intertwined his hand with Dean's as their kiss deepened. When they finally let go Dean's heart was hammering. Cas always made him feel alive in this bleak world they now called home.

“I never learn”, Castiel said with a rueful smile. “Beer kisses are disgusting”. Dean shoved Cas' face to the side, his hand trailing down to wrap around his neck. He squeezed firmly and grinned when he noticed Castiel's chest rise and the sharp inhale of breath.

“You call me disgusting? Behave or I will spank you.” 

Eyes sparkling with amusement, Castiel just smiled at Dean's proposal but then a small wrinkle appeared on his forehead as he frowned. Letting go of his throat, Dean spread his hand down Castiel's chest, feeling his heart drum away. Those simple gestures were not just born out of love, but pride and gratitude. They were reminders of them still being alive and kicking.

“I am disgusting actually. While we sojourn at this exclusive resort let's see if the showers are working.”

Castiel got up from the couch and headed towards the bathroom. There was a groan from old pipes and then Dean could hear the telltale sound of water running. He just hoped it was warm. Grabbing his backpack Dean rummaged through it until he found all the ammo he had stashed away. There was plenty to go around and if he took into account that the mutant kiddos were being killed off faster then they could kill other people, well that was a good thing. Closing up the zipper Dean went to join Cas.

The warm water from the shower had left a misty trail on the mirror that Castiel was wiping away with one hand. His clothes lay haphazardly on the floor and he was holding a razor in his hand, carefully shaving away the stubble. Dean sneaked a hand around his waist and started kissing Cas' neck.

“Dean, not now, I'm holding a sharp blade against my neck.” All he got in response was a slight murmur and then he moaned as Dean's other hand gripped his cock. 

“Kind of hot you know, knives and you together”.

Castiel just rolled his eyes and shoved him away. When he was done with the shaving, he cleaned off the razor, letting it rest on the porcelain sink. Dean's clothes were on the floor. Opening the shower door he joined Dean who was already lathered up. 

“You saved some for me right? I know how you are, hogging all the fruit bodywash and conditioner.” Dean scrunched his nose in disgust and handed Cas the soap. Taking a whiff, Cas smiled. 

“Mango, yeah? Well more for me then.”

The rest of the shower was done in silence. Relishing the feel of warm water across skin that had seen it's fair share of bruises, blemishes and cuts they both savored these moments. Cas had commented before that he almost felt reborn in these instances, like washing away all the dirt and watching the muddled water go down the drain took some of the pain away with it. Dean wouldn't go so far but it sure felt nice to be clean again, feel human again.

^^^

Darkness had crept up on them but they didn't mind laying down in a soft bed, cuddling close. 

“Maybe we could stay here a few days. The bed is nice and soft, we have plenty of food. We could just... be you know.”

Dean didn't remind him about his earlier inquiry of Paradise Lost and the trip he wanted to embark on. Of course Cas wanted to stay here. They could just be, him and Cas. Be here in this isolated bubble of warm beds, soft couches, and even softer kisses.

“We could.” He paused for a second. “If we are going to do this, and try to find this Adult Legoland of yours then we need to prepare carefully. Taking a few days to think things through seems to be the wiser choice.”

Castiel kissed his shoulder. “I can make you spam and creamed corn without cream in the morning. If you are good I'll throw in some raisins too”.

“I hope the raisins are dessert and not with the main course, cause that sounds gross.” Dean laughed and kissed Castiel. “This is better?”

Castiel made an appreciative murmur in the back of his throat. “Yes, Dean, it beats tongues tasting of putrid beer every time.”

Dean sputtered indignantly. “Dude, beer does not taste putrid. What is wrong with you? Don't be a dick.”

“Are you alright?” It was barely a whisper but Dean could hear the message loud and clear. “You know, from earlier today. I know we wanted a kid, and then all hell broke loose. Now it's...”

“I'm okay, it's not like I'm keeping a fucking score.”

“Dean...” There was disapproval in Cas' voice but also understanding. “We will talk about it tomorrow, it's okay. And for what it's worth, you would have been a great dad.” 

“You too, Cas.” Dean hugged him. 

They talked silly nothings - not daring to voice their hearts' desire . Dean could feel Castiel go quieter beside him. Finally he went limp against his side as sleep took him. Whispering, “I love you”, Dean closed his eyes. There was a new day tomorrow and hopefully no children to shoot.


	3. The games we play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Games are played on several levels . Today's word was video game.
> 
> This is all fluff!

Castiel lingered in the doorway, curious by the sound and commotion. Well he knew what they were doing, it was just that _before_ he didn't find any meaning to their activity. He knew it brought Dean and Sam pleasure although Dean was the one that seemed to find most joy out of it, and that was that. This time was different. _He_ was different.

Stepping into the man cave didn't cause any swiveling of heads. The sound coming from the speakers was loud enough that Castiel had to put his hands against his ears, making sure that there was no blood. He was still not used to certain experiences. Sam was shouting to Dean, apparently exasperated. 

“Dean, you got to eat the berry first, the purple one, and _then_ do the jump! Now we are as good as dead anyway.” 

Castiel smiled at that. In real life just a few things could kill the Winchesters and if by chance they did die, they didn't stay dead for long. His smile faltered when he realized that was _before_. Well, done was done and it _had_ been his choice. Castiel just needed some time to adjust, he told himself.

“This is a stupid game anyway! What's wrong with racing cars, or playing that game where you have to decorate rooms and choose wallpapers and landscape a garden. That I get. You eat that berry and jump!” 

Dean glared at Sam and got up to grab another beer when he noticed Castiel.

“Oh hey, Cas. What's up?” Dean paused for a second. “Want to join us?” 

Castiel glanced at Sam. 

“I don't know,” Castiel murmured. “This seems like a very complex game”.

“Oh, come on Cas. Playing video games is a vital component of being human. You can't bang now.” Dean went over to the mini-fridge and grabbed two bottles of beer.

Sam got up from his chair. “Cas, you can take my seat. I'm done for now. Besides Dean is totally messing up my score. I can start dinner. It will probably take one hour or so.”

Waving the two bottles of beer Dean objected. “I do not mess up your stupid score, Sam. Purple berries, buttons to tap while you have to run and eat a snack. It's a weird game anyway. Me and Cas are going to play a _real_ game.”

Cas settled into the game chair, making it swivel around slowly.

“Comfy isn't it?” Dean grinned. He loved everything about this room. From the TV and PlayStation, to the collection of movies, down to the bar, minifridge, beers, alcohols and mixer drinks. 

Castiel smiled. “Yes it is pretty satisfactory. So, what game did you have in mind?”

After Dean had explained the basics of the role playing game, they picked characters. Dean already had his wizard Khloe ready from a previous game. 

“Come on Cas, if she has purple or yellow eyes really doesn't matter. The point is the actual game!” Dean complained. “Sam will be ready soon with his hippie quinoa-blend and we haven't even started yet. Even Jack is faster. ” 

Cas pursed his lips thoughtfully at Dean's words as he continued to pick from the different hair styles and colors. “So the point is to play the actual game and follow the rules?”

“Yes!”

Castiel spoke slowly, with measure. “So what if we have two players playing a hypothetical game but one of the players is afraid to play it properly?”

Dean lowered his control and looked at Cas, confusion all over his face. “What do you mean?”

Staring straight at Dean, Cas licked his lips. “The purpose of the game is to find treasure X. To do that two players have battled countless enemies to find two magic potions. The flasks are now in their possession. Player B has a potion and knows that the second potion is in Player A's backpack. And so does player A.”

“Okay... then why don't they just use it?”

Cas glanced at the screen and scrolled through the numerous ear options. “Player A is not certain of the outcome. He doesn't trust that the potion will work, and thinks the treasure will be lost to them.”

Tapping his foot restlessly on the plush carpet, Dean scoffed. “Okay but why can't player B take the potion from Player A. If he is so certain, then he can use both potions. Nailed it, didn't I?” Dean smiled, hitting Cas on the shoulder.

Picking soft, black cat ears, Cas clicked his way to the clothes-selection. “It has to be voluntarily. Player B can't force Player A's hand.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Where the fuck did you find this game, Cas?”

Contemplating if he should pick a tunic or a full dress Castiel answered absentmindedly, “The internet.”

“Wow, that narrows it down. Hmm, so Player A knows he has to use the potion and that player B has one potion too and Player A _also_ knows that this magic will not work if they don't use it together. Player A is afraid to use _his_ potion cause he is not sure the treasure will magically appear or whatever?”

“That is correct, Dean.” Cas had stopped selecting at the shoe options and was looking at Dean intently.

“So, Player B is having faith that the potion will work?”

Castiel's eyes lit up at that and he turned his chair to face Dean. “Yes.”

Dean glanced at the gaming menu. “And player A is afraid that it won't work?”

A small nod of the head was the only reply Cas gave.

“Why doesn't player A just use his potion and if it works, fuck yeah, they get a kick-ass treasure; and if they don't, well at least they tried.“

“Player A is afraid,” Cas stated simply.

Dean scoffed as he played with his game controller. “Frankly Cas, this player A sounds like an asshole.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes, and Dean could swear that for a brief second he saw amusement flash there. It was so quick that he wasn't sure if it had been there at all. Cas leaned over towards Dean and spoke quietly.

“Mm, then why can't you stop being such an asshole about it, Dean?” Leaning back in the chair Castiel smiled but there was an edge to how those lips curved and a hint of steel in his eyes. “I must say player A and player Asshole does fit nicely together. I was going for player D as in dickbag and Dean but I thought that would be _too_ obvious.”

Dean rose from his chair quickly and his voice turned sharp with anger. “What the hell is the matter with you, Cas?” 

Castiel got up and faced Dean, cracking a soft smile. “Sam owes me 100 dollars. He thought that the game - analogy would work, but I was betting on your stubbornness and fear.” Taking one more step Castiel raised his hand to Dean's check.

“I love you, Dean. I really, really do. I'm _in_ love with you, and I have been for a long time.”

Cas could see Dean's eyes widen slightly, his nostrils flare as he softly exhaled extra air. He noticed the pulse in Dean's neck and how it beat rapidly. He didn't move.

Dean didn't move. He tried to open his mouth and speak. After a few seconds he managed to say, “I should have been player D as in dickbag.” Not making a motion to remove Cas's hand Dean looked down and then back up again. He licked his lips swiftly.

“I... Fucking hell.” Dean sighed deeply, then opened his mouth. “I love you too, Cas. God I have loved you since fucking forever. But I didn't know, I mean you were a angel of the Lord, I didn't... Do these winged dicks, not that you are a dick Cas, even feel anything, but you have acted like a dick sometimes, and then I was getting hints, maybe I was reading them wrong, what if you didn't love me back, and there was always another fucking Apocalypse to deal with, or Leviathans, and then Jack was born and you...” 

Dean took a breath, looking down quickly and then back at Cas. “And you _died_ , really died-dead and I was out of my fucking mind, and then you were back and I was so goddamn happy, and then Michael happened and.. you know -”

Castiel stopped Dean's litany with a kiss. Dean tensed up for a split second, and then he went soft, relaxing against him. The quick beating of Castiel's heart that had started at Dean's _I love you too_ seemed to go into overdrive. He wasn't sure if he was having what the humans called a heart attack or if this was a byproduct of being in love. 

Whichever it was, Castiel gently probed Dean's lips with his tongue and Dean opened up. They kissed carefully, wary to break this new, unfamiliar but oh so welcome connection that was forming. Dean's hand was in Castiel's hair, gripping tight suddenly, and that was the signal to let go. They kissed with abandon, tongues battling and Dean tasted of everything Castiel had dreamed of and _more_. He would always be _more_ to Cas, and he moaned and Dean let out an equal sound of delight and pleasure and Castiel felt this _feeling_ bloom in his heart, skin, all over and he let go and started laughing. Dean's eyes widened in surprise, but Castiel had this feeling that just needed out and he laughed and laughed. 

“We have been such dumbasses, Dean!” 

Tears were rolling down Castiel's cheeks and Dean was there, kissing them away, kissing Castiel's eyes, and mouth, covering his neck with small kisses until he stepped back. Grabbing the former angel's hand instead, he squeezed tight.

“Yeah, tell me about it Cas, but no more.” Dean grinned. “I fucking love you, Cas!” His smile widened as he took in the enormity of what had just happened.

Castiel wiped away his tears and kissed Dean's hand. “I love you too, Dean.” He let go of Dean's hand but couldn't stop smiling. As quickly as he let go of Dean's hand, as quickly did he grab it again.

“You told me that I'm human now and I'm sure this is a vital component of being human. Now let's go eat Sam's hippie-food.”

Holding hands Castiel and Dean walked out of the room.


	4. In the presence of Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A offering to the Gods doesn't go as planned
> 
> (Today's prompt was Mythology and this story is reversed myth of sorts.)  
> Warning! The rating on this piece is R and depicts rape/non-con.

Castiel slowly walked around the man dressed in a tunic kneeling on the stone floor. His eyes were downcast and he trembled slightly. Castiel would like to imagine it was due to pure adoration and devotion but doubted this creature before him could harbor any of those feelings. An array of offerings lay beside him, a carved wooden flute, an old book with leather bindings and a bundle of mint on a small offering tray.

“What is your name?” Castiel spoke with indifference. He noted that the man had stopped trembling, his voice an anchor that he could hold on to. It was to be expected.  
“Acesius of the World, great Manticus, Loxias, I come before you humbly to ask of a favor on behalf of my master. I am Dean of Delos.”

Castiel snapped his fingers and the offerings vanished. “I know him and I know you. What is it that you desire and for what reason?” 

Dean fidgeted slightly, he had been kneeling on the floor for quite some time. “Humbly I ask for the gift of Seeing, to protect my people from raids and slavers and those who would conquer us, revered Manticus.”

“The old names. They do have a nice ring to them, don't they? You can call me Castiel though.” 

Dean didn't know what to say, so he remained silent. 

“Say, Dean. I am of a curious mind. Do you worship me?” 

This was the first time that Castiel noticed movements that betrayed the supposed placidity that Dean exhibited. A small, careful inhale, minute twitching of the left hand's fingers, back muscles moving ever so slightly. “You can behold me. I do not object.”

There was hesitance first and then Dean slowly lifted his gaze. His eyes widened slightly. Castiel, God of the Sun, prophecy and poetry was naked before him. Lithe muscles that spoke of subtle strength, black short hair that, that only heightened the shine of blue eyes and on top of his head a green laurel wreath. Dean's eyes flickered to Castiel's cock and then he decided that the safest option was to look down again.

Castiel was suddenly down to Dean's level and a strong hand on his chin forced him to look up. Darker shades of blue flickered in his eyes, like the storms themselves had taken refugee there.  
“You silence is impetuous, Dean. I asked, do you worship me? Or do you try to placate your lack of faith, with gifts that only hold my interest from those true of heart?””

“Forgive me, Castiel. The offerings were not meant to slight you. I do worship you... now. My people have laid offerings at the altar in your name for generations.” Dean tried to look away but the hold on his chin hindered any movements whatsoever. He also got the distinct impression that even if he could move away, Castiel would not take kindly to it.

Finally Castiel let go and Dean's hand went to his jaw to rub away some of the soreness. One arched eyebrow from Castiel and Dean stopped mid movement. 

“That wish of yours could be accommodated. Not many mortals are granted the wish of Seeing and those who do come before me, have reverence, delight and submission in their hearts.” 

Castiel's hand went to Dean's face and light fingers stroke his cheek. “The token offerings were... suitable. But from you, I desire worship. Could you do that, Dean? Worship me?”

Licking his lips, Dean swallowed. He did not want to be the instigator of Castiel's wrath and he was here on behalf of his people, not himself. Offerings in the temple, oils to burn and whispered prayers in the wind. If the price to save his people was that he embraced the Sun, opened his heart to Manticus, that he could do. “Yes”, Dean murmured.

“Fully?” Castiel said, voice smooth as his fingers played with Dean's hair. 

Dean hesitated for the briefest of time. “Yes, fully I do commit myself to you, Castiel”. The God before him smiled and snapped with his fingers. Darkness consumed them both.

When light filled Dean's senses again he was in a room with soft, chalked walls. There was a huge bed in the center of the room, grander then even his father owned. Carpets layered the floors, in intricate patterns and colors that Dean recognized as the work from the Persian people.

“On your knees”, Castiel spoke and when Dean hesitated a hand grabbed him by the throat and forced him down. “When you hear words from my lips, I expect you to accommodate their meaning. Is that clear?” 

Dean nodded, eyes wide with alarm. Castiel snapped his fingers and Dean's tunic disappeared.

“Good. Open your mouth.” Castiel let go of Dean's throat.

Coughing a few times, Dean looked up at Castiel and slowly opened his mouth. The God was there swifter then Hermes himself, and Dean realized with horror what was to be as Castiel guided his erect cock into his mouth. Dean tried to pull away but despite Castiel's lithe form his hands on Dean's head were like iron, keeping him there as he started thrusting inside Dean's mouth.

“This is how you worship me fully”, Castiel gritted out and set a punishing pace.

Dean took hold of Castiel's thighs, trying no longer to push away but hold on as Castiel's cock went in and out. Hitting way in the back of Dean's throat, he tried to keep his mind on breathing, but it was as if his whole physical being was focused on Castiel and more importantly his cock. Castiel moaned and speared his fingers through Dean's hair. With each pull out saliva ran down Dean's cheek and dropped on the carpets.

After what felt like eons Castiel finally pulled away and looked down at Dean. “You are beautiful like that.”

Dean was too stunned to bring an answer to his lips. His throat was sore and all he desired was ale to wash away the taste of Castiel. He wanted to revoke his word, but the mere notion of how Castiel would react terrified him. With dread heavy in his gut Dean also remembered that the fate of his people was hinged upon this event.

With a snap of Castiel's fingers Dean found himself face down on the bed and there was no shadows of doubt as to what the God desired. “Please, Castiel, I beseech you!” Dean tried to move away but felt bonds unseen to the eye hold him down. He tried to move his wrists and ankles in desperation but that only brought a displeased sigh from Castiel.

“Now now, my acolyte. Your body is a token of your service and dedication to me and it brings me great pleasure that you have offered yourself to me. I do not allow many this honor.” He grabbed Dean by the hair and arched his head back, causing him to hiss out in pain. 

Suddenly two fingers was near his entrance, not with curiosity but demanding submission and as they entered Dean's hole he yelled out in surprise and pain. The sharp force spread throughout his body, muscles tensing up and that energy needed release. Dean screamed out in the room as he felt Castiel's fingers move inside him. 

After an eternity had passed Castiel's fingers retreated. Dean's body was covered in a sweaty sheen and he was on the brink of shivering. He tried to slump down but a force was keeping him upright. “Thank the Gods,” Dean mumbled. 

Castiel chuckled. “I think I am the one deserving praise and gratitude, no?” Thank me.” 

The words felt like ash in Dean's mouth but nonetheless he let them spill forth. “I... thank you.” 

Castiel hummed contently. Dean lay there suspended, his mind warring between a state of tired resignation and a willingness to remain steadfast, unyielding. The pressure against his opening told Dean what the imminent future would hold. Without preamble Castiel pushed in.

Dean was a vessel filled with all consuming fire, burning more brightly then the sun god himself as Castiel's cock filled him up. In and out Castiel moved, his fingers gripping Dean's hips tightly for more leverage. Somewhere in shadowed corners of Dean's mind he was aware of sounds coming from Castiel, whispers of praise, noises of pleasure and another keening sound; one he refused to acknowledge, pushing it away. His whole world though, had narrowed down to a single point of existence, corporeal in form and each thrust sent waves of pain through him, never ending. He screamed.

Slowly as a flower opening up towards the sun, Dean was aware that his world had shifted again. His bonds had vanished and the stone floor of the temple felt coarse against his naked flesh. A need to call out to someone vibrated through his body but all that greeted him was a dense silence. 

A pair of feet appeared before him and swiftly a hand gripped him tight around his arm and raised him from perdition. Praise that was born on his lips, shriveled away as Dean looked into Castiel's eyes.

“Greetings, Dean. You were most forthcoming, I must applaud your service and the deep dedication you were willing to offer me.” Castiel's hand still held him up, and Dean had no doubt in his mind that without his aid, he would have crumbled to the floor. 

“My desire, the Seeing.” Dean mouthed, forcing the words out.

“Yes, your supplication that I bestow the gift of Prophecy on you.” Castiel tightened his grip and yanked Dean close. “Regrets, that I will not be obliging.”

Dean exhaled sharply, shock and fear giving way to outrage on his face. “You are Castiel, a God. Your promise is certainty!”

Smiling, a gesture that did nothing to diminish the coldness in Castiel's blue eyes he said: “I said your wish _could_ be accommodated. I never acknowledged that it _would_.”

With those words, Castiel vanished to the realm of Gods, leaving Dean of Delos behind.


	5. 48 hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas finally have 48 hours together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt was Medic/Firefighter. I struggled really hard with this one for some reason, not knowing which way to go. I think this came out alright.

Dean closed the door with a bang and tossed the keys in the designated bowl that shared it's space with a multitude of knickknacks such as car keys, a button, the pool card and some batteries. It drove Castiel crazy and every other week he emptied the bowl to no avail.

“Cas, I'm home! 48 hours of me and you time! Are you ready?” Dean dumped the grocery bags on the kitchen counter.

Castiel walked up to Dean, kissed him and started unpacking. Both Dean and Cas preferred it that way since Cas wouldn't give him a break if the rice was at the wrong shelf or if canned food was not in the cupboard. Dean didn't get it at all but it was important to Cas, so why not.

“How long have you been home for?”

“Just a couple of hours. Kevin came a bit early so I could head out sooner then I expected. How about you? How was your day?”

“Not too bad. Did a vehicle extrication...” Dean sighed. “The whole car was smashed but the poor fucker inside was alive at least. “

Castiel let go of the rice noodles he was holding and went over to Dean, hugging him from behind. Nuzzling his neck he took a whiff and scrunched his nose. “Man, did you shower?”

Dean turned his head, grinning. “Nope, I thought you'd appreciate my manly man-musk.”

Castiel took a step back and slapped Dean's ass. “Number one, no one calls it man-musk, it doesn't bring with it pleasant connotations at all. You are not some creep walking around, leering at men with your musk.”

Dean turned around and grabbed Castiel's wrists, pinning his arms to the side. He trailed kisses down Castiel's neck. “Mm I think you would really appreciate other manly aspects of me, Cas.”  
Cas tried to ignore Dean's kisses, turning his head the other way but that only encouraged Dean to come closer, grinding his growing erection into Cas.

“And number two, you are 20 percent pleasant-Dean-scent, and 30 percent I'd-bang-that-scent.”

Sucking a sensitive spot on Castiel's neck that made him moan in pleasure Dean murmured:

“And what are the other 50 percent, hmm? Wild-beast-in-bed scent? Sexy-as-hell-and-you-know-it-scent? Maybe some get-down-on-your-knees-and-worship-me-scent?”

“More a not-showered-for-48-hours-and-your-sweat-has-become-a-second-gross-skin scent?”

Dean laughed and tightened his hold on Cas' wrists. “I thought you liked it dirty.”

Castiel felt a arrow of pleasure surge straight down to his cock a those words coming from Dean's mouth. His husband grinned, knowing exactly what those words would do to him.

Cas pointedly ignored the feeling. “You are fucking dirty. Take a shower.” To emphasize his point, Cas stomped his foot on Dean's toe.

Dean yelped in surprise and let go of Castiel's wrists. “Real mature, Cas.”

Castiel just smiled. “Hey, you married me for my good looks and my willingness to obey your every command. In bed that is. Now go. I'll handle dinner.”

Sighing, Dean blew Cas a kiss and went to the bedroom. After a few minutes Cas could hear the water running from the bathroom and Dean singing _Nothing Else Matters _.__

Cas smiled; only Dean would agree Metallica was a good option for shower songs. After unpacking the produce Castiel grabbed his favorite knife and started chopping away on the cabbage, onion, spring onions and carrots. A pot of water was already on the stove.  
When the frying pan was ready and the oil sizzled nicely Cas fried the onions. Inhaling the smell of garlic, he then tossed the veggies around in the pan and dunked some rice noodles in the boiling water.

After a few minutes Cas grabbed the shrimps and sauce he prepared earlier from the fridge and threw them in together with the vegetables. He loved cooking and some times brought leftovers to work, but for the most part both he and Dean relied on fast food when they were working their 24-hour shifts.

Being off-shift was a great opportunity to indulge in some home-prepared meals and this was one of those far-too-seldom times when they were off 2 days together. Cas liked to view it as a mini-vacation. When the noodles were done, he put them in the pan and coated everything with the sauce. Letting it simmer he chopped up cilantro and peanuts and mixed it in, before removing the pan from the hot plate.

Dean entered the kitchen in jeans and a casual T shirt printed with _Zeppelin rules_  in bold pink letters when Cas was setting the table. Two white candles were glowing faintly in the middle.

 

 

“Mm this smells delish. Aww Cas, what's with the special fire-sticks?” He grabbed some chilled beers from the fridge.

“As you said, 48 hours together. I'm sure I will not tire of you, and if I do I can always watch Game of Thrones-reruns.”

Dean extended his middle finger on the left hand. “Screw you.”

“You wish.”

Putting the beers on the table, Dean smirked. “Nah, it's not a wish, more of a certainty. Dinner, movie, then I will bang that sass out of you.”

Arching an eyebrow Castiel looked at Dean, a serious look on his face. “I think I will need to produce some more sass.”

“Shut up, Cas”, Dean laughed.

After the Pad Thai was finished and Cas had cleared the table and put everything in the dishwasher according to some celestial holy order only he knew of, they cuddled down in the couch.

Dean claimed the corner and Cas sat next to him, head resting on Dean's chest. It was somewhat awkward, but Castiel just wanted to listen to the steady beat of Dean's heart for a few minutes, reminding himself that Dean was his.

“You done with the weird pretzel position, Cas. You know, I have other means of letting you know I own you”.

Cas scoffed. “Mm, your hands around my throat or this, I know which one I prefer.”

 

 

Dean grinned. “I know which one  _I_ prefer.”

 

 

Castiel smacked Dean on the arm. “Stop being such a doofus. Press play already. I want to watch this movie.”

Dean grabbed the remote and pressed the button. “Hey, I may be a doofus, but you don't complain when this doofus slaps you and makes you beg for more.”

“Mm, true. I guess even a doofus can have a hidden talent. Love you doofus Dean.”

Sighing, Dean kissed Cas on the head. “I love you too, silly.

Clean sheets, newly made bed, one of the best sensations. Cas let out a satisfied sigh as Dean settled down next to him. They kissed lazily, enjoying the warmth of each other. Cas was stroking Dean's arm lazily.

“Thanks for making dinner, sweetie.” Dean said as he kissed him lower on the neck, eliciting a moan from Cas. “You ready for your reward?” Dean rose up and his fingers went to Cas nipples, pinching hard.

Cas groaned and his answer was lost in a multitude of sensations, the overwhelming one in that instant, pleasure.

“What did you say? Speak up Cas.” His eyes were focused intently on his husband and the sounds he was making.

Cas arched upward, kissing Dean's chin. “I'm sleepy. Is my reward sleep?”

Laughing out loud, Dean let go of Cas' nipples. “It can be. Now that you mention it I do feel kind of beat.” Laying down again he wiggled his arm around Cas body and hugged him. “Good night, Cas. Sleep well.”

Some incoherent mumbles were Cas reply and soon sleep took both of them.


	6. Bodies and boners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester is skulking around in a cemetery with not so noble goals in mind, when he meets a man with darker intentions.
> 
> Todays's prompt was "Victorian Era".

The darkness lay heavy on the cemetery and dark, nebulous clouds shrouded the moon, making this hour perfect for Dean Winchester's current endeavor. That, and a somewhat heavy purse given to the groundskeeper to keep his eyes averted aided him well. Not that Dean's coin-purse remained hollow and empty since he had started to pursue this special line of work. Doctors were greedy for the dead, and Dean was very much obliged to help their cause. 

Besides, the season would end in two months, and his patron was known to tip with a heavy hand. An indulging kiss from Dean had sweetened the pot. Dean slowly made his way to the mark, careful not to slip on the wet leaves that lay treacherous on the grounds of this part of the cemetery. The rain that was hours ago would make digging cumbersome but time was not of the essence.

The spot was somewhat hidden at the back of the cemetery and Dean didn't take note of the name on the stone. That was of no import. Just a few steps ahead and Dean stopped at a place that clearly indicated a recent upheaval of earth and grass and random twigs. Carefully lowering his satchel, he reached inside for the piece of cloth and spread it around the grave. 

Satisfied, he procured from the same satchel a small dagger-shaped wooden tool and started digging. Only the dull-witted carried with them iron-shovels, which attracted curious folks with it's sharp clicking against stone. Dean was many things, but slow of mind was not one of them. Carefully and with control Dean started digging a hole until he unearthed the wooden coffin. Attaching two large iron-hooks that were secured with rope underneath the lid of the coffin, Dean braced himself. Muscles straining, and his heart picking up speed he pulled until he heard that certain noise of satisfaction. The lid of the coffin was broken. 

Removing the hooks, Dean exhaled, casting glances around him. The cemetery was quiet even for being a resting place for the dead. Off in the distance Dean could hear faint sounds but nothing to alarm him. A clickity-clack from horse-shoes on cobble stone. Some street-walker calling out for assistance, her bully supposedly in close proximity. Pleased by this lack of disturbance around the cemetery Dean reached in the dark hole and hoisted the body up. 

Thankfully the man - corpse would be a more precise term - was of small stature. Quickly Dean removed his clothes and shoved them back into the coffin. Coiling the rope and looping it around his chest, Dean secured the hooks and his wooden tool in a chink on his belt. With a grimace, sweat starting to plaster on the back of Dean's shirt, he managed to hoist the body into the rather large sack. So much for small stature, he thought with a wry grin. Looking up at the darkness of the sky Dean noted that the clouds had diminished but still the light of the moon was concealed enough for him to make his exit. 

Grabbing the cloth around the grave Dean took all that excess dirt and dumped it back into the hole, covering up the now empty resting place. Any signs of foul play were hidden and none would be the wiser. Stuffing the cloth together with the body, Dean tightened the sack and hoisted it up on his shoulder. 

He took his path out along the stone wall of the cemetery. Walking briskly he had 15 minutes to the residence of his patron where he would give over the body and then take his leave. Sleep would come easy after this. Just as he was to exit the cemetery he saw a shadow flicker. Inside the cemetery but close to the exist Dean saw the silhouette of a man move in what appeared to be confidence and relaxation. Confusion marred Dean's face for a short moment. The groundskeeper was supposed to be on watch. What was this man doing out, at this time of night? Dean smiled suddenly at the irony of the thought. 

Softly inhaling and exhaling, he decided to creep up, which was no easy task with a corpse hanging over your shoulder. If he had luck, this stranger would just turn around the bend and Dean would walk by unnoticed. The trees and their thick canopy would provide enough coverage and with which way the stranger was going it was doable. Suddenly the man was out of the cemetery. Watching, Dean waited, his lips moving softly as he counted up to one hundred and then back again. To be on the safe side he counted some more and then enough was enough. He took quick strides and was about to round the corner when he noticed something bulky lay in the tall grass. 

It was a dead body, that Dean knew with certainty. He had seen his share of corpses, small and delicate, bony and withered, some so big and fat, there was no use in even trying to excavate them. Tossing his sack on the ground, he inched closer and surprise made his eyebrow climb high. This was one of the most well-dressed corpses he had seen. Something niggled at his mind. Letting his fingers ease an itch, scratching a scab on his collarbone that had nagged him all night, he looked around. All he could see was high grass blowing in a light breeze, the wet leaves laying in heaps here and there but mostly they were just trodden down, stuck in the muddy soil. 

Soil. It hit Dean with sudden clarity. He looked around once more for certainty although he knew he was in the right. There was no soil here, nothing to implicate a freshly dug grave, a corpse being taken. This was something else entirely. His thoughts on the matter evaporated as he felt a presence, something, no a someone, stand behind him. The small hairs on Dean's arms rose in warning but it was too little, too late. Slowly turning around Dean met with the mystery shadow of a stranger he had seen earlier.

“You play with dead bodies I notice. I didn't expect to come across a sack-em-up-man but the fault is mine. I should have chosen place with more care.” The man took a step forward, extending his hand. His eyes, a startling blue not even the shadows could hide were amused. “My name is Castiel.”

Dean took note of this Castiel, from his dark tailcoat that seemed to be of finest cotton, the waistcoat that even in the dark gloom of night was recognizable to be covered with silken embroidery and his white breeches that ended just below his knees, showing up black, leather boots of good quality. 

When Dean didn't take his hand Castiel made a small motion, a shrug of nonchalance. 

“Lovely night to take a stroll through the cemetery, you think not?” Castiel continued as if this was a common occurrence in his life. “I see you came across my body.”

Dean glanced again on the body in the grass, like he could omit that knowledge from his psyche. He could not help himself. Even though Dean's mind demanded his attention, every primal signal warning him to leave the body and flee, he could not do such a thing.

“I did.” 

Dean paused for the briefest of time and then he spoke, like he was out of his mind. Maybe he had. He had heard of a certain affliction called Digger's Disease. Men faint of heart that had dug up so many corpses, the ghosts of the dead were said to haunt them, whispering vile things in their ears. Maybe it was that, cause Dean not of faint heart. Maybe it was something darker still, that Dean did not care to label at the present.

“There are no signs of digging, no soil from where _your_ body was taken. And if the clothes are your judge, you don't look like the common type of folk who dig.”

Castiel took one step towards Dean. “Oh, I am far from a common type. That body was a friend and now he is my rather deceased friend. Such is life.”

The night air brought with it chill winds that wrapped themselves around Dean and made him shiver now that the warmth from his earlier labor had dissipated. Castiel took another step towards him, and Dean stayed fast. He was mesmerized. Charisma, that was the word. Such was this Castiel's presence that Dean did not want to do anything other then just stay there and be.

“Did your friend deserve his death?”

Castiel took another step. His body was in close proximity to Dean's and he noticed with surprise that he found Castiel pleasing to the eye. Dean admonished himself for thinking that horrendous actions were always mirrored in a vile appearance.

“Don't we all deserve death?” And to be frank with you, he was more then friend. My taste lies in a different kind of persuasion.” Castiel grinned. “Some would call it a perversion, but my perversion does not lie in whom I care to persuade but in other avenues. They are all very enticing though.”

The imagery that Castiel's word conjured in Dean's mind startled him, but they were not of unpleasantness. No, these were of all the ways Castiel could persuade a man to do his bidding and be granted these alluring promises.

“Some I am sure deserve that kind of faith. And for those who don't?” The absurdity of the situation at hand suddenly struck Dean, having a conversation with this man while two corpses lay waiting for them.

Castiel looked at him, and Dean was certain a smile ghosted his lips before he went sincere. “Everyone is of sinful nature. Some, for the things they have committed, and some for the things that they are about to commit.” The heat of Castiel brought some relief in the cold of night, or it might have been the matter of Dean's heart beating with an erratic pace. 

“Do you think you would be grateful?” Castiel's question was asked with nonchalance but the implications send jolts of pleasure lancing through Dean, and his cock turned hard. Licking his lips, he whispered.

“That opportunity and the answer escapes me. While this has been... unusual, I must return before day break.” Dean made a motion to pick up his sack when a firm hand on his arm demanded he halt. 

“I know of a certain Doctor Knox, that will pay a hefty price for bodies. 15 dollars and some gratuity if the body is in immaculate condition.” Castiel flashed his teeth. “Mine always are.” 

That was double the amount of his usual quota. If he worked diligently for the next months Dean would be able to live a life of comfort, at least until next winter. The proposition was very tempting. In the back of his mind he nourished a dim hope that this single encounter would lead to others. Despite all the suspicions Dean harbored, Castiel was strangely alluring.

“15 dollars is a large amount.” Dean hesitated but for a short moment. “We are in agreement, but I will bring my own bodies to this Doctor Knox, the way I have acquired them so far. If you are certain there will be no questions and no report of foul play, my answer is yes.”

Castiel moved swiftly and grabbed the body on the ground as if that settled everything. With some effort Dean mirrored his actions and they moved slowly towards the exist. The foliage of the trees were much more sparse outside of the cemetery, not providing the same shelter and protection from curious eyes. 

“My carriage and horse is just on the other side. There is ample of room to hide the bodies until we reach the good doctor.” Castiel turned and extended his hand. “Apologies, but I never caught your name.”

The time for hesitance had passed. Dean took Castiel's hand in his. “Dean, my name is Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt that I had much fun with. The writing style was not my usual although it was challenging to try and do something new.
> 
> The depiction of exhuming bodies in the way Dean did, is historically accurate.


	7. Defense against the dark arts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new teachers for Defense against the dark arts, Sam and Dean Winchester are getting ready for their first class. As muggles they will be shown around by Cas, professor at Hogwarts, and it's a meeting that brings up bad memories for Dean.

Rumors had been circulating for months about the two new teachers that were filling up the position for Defense Against the Dark Arts. As if that was not enough, some of those very rumors claimed that they were muggles, and although Dean didn't know what that meant, it didn't sound like anything good.

Dean Winchester was very much aware of those rumors since he had heard them being whispered among teachers and students alike. His brother Sam didn't mind but Dean was no fucking muggle. It didn't matter that Sam had tried to explain many times that it was not an insult. He exhaled sharply. It was going to be really hard not to curse. The kids were around sixteen he gathered, so it was not like they hadn't heard their fair share of curse words anyway. When he saw Rowena again he was going to strangle her. They had been walking around for awhile and still the teacher's private area was nowhere to be found.

“Look Dean, don't you think this is a great opportunity to teach the young witches and wizards some knowledge about non-magical supernatural stuff? So they can be safe?” Dean adjusted his clothes and stared at Sam.

“Safe? You think some teenage witch that can wave his goddamn wand around and curse you to infinity needs _more_ tricks up his sleeve to try and kill us? No, what they all need is some bacon and pie. They need to just chill the fuck down. Wayward kids, Rowena said! She never mentioned that they were _witches_!”

“Technically they are not witches, but wizards, Dean.”

“It's all the same thing Sam, magic with gross fluids like spit and blood or weird wands and frog-legs, it doesn't matter.”

A girl walking past them turned around with big eyes as she heard Dean curse.

“Fucking hell”, Dean muttered and realizing what he had said, ground his teeth together.

Flapping his arms in disgust at the black robe he had to wear, Dean narrowed his eyes at a painting hanging on the wall. “I do not like that skinny dude in purple pants following us around. And where are we? Haven't I seen that vase four times already?”

Sam put out his hand and Dean stopped. “You are right, Dean. It seems like we are walking around in circles somehow. Maybe we can ask a student?” Quickly casting a glance at his brother, Sam shrugged. “Robe looks fine, besides, black is back, baby.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, glaring at his younger brother. “The only one that gets to be called baby is Baby. Got it? And this is not rock star-black Sammy, I look like a fucking Judge Judy-wannabe.” 

Sam chuckled. “I thought you liked her.”

“Yes, she is bad-ass, but that's beside the point!”

A small tap at Dean's back got his attention and he turned around. A petite girl in huge glasses and curly dark-brown verging on black hair looked at them with large eyes. She moved her lips but Dean couldn't hear anything so he inched closer. Finally he realized what she was whispering. 

“Are you the Winchester's? The new teachers?”

Putting on a reassuring smile, Dean did his best not to scare her. He was not aware that students of Hogwarts took notice of mere mortal hunters.

“Yes we are. I'm Dean and this is my brother, Sam.” Sam did a little wave and then continued to study the moving painting of a girl skipping rope. “We are looking for the teacher's den or whatever name you have for it here.” 

Taking a deep breath the girl decided this was nothing to be nervous about. “My name is Amber. I can show you. It can be difficult to find it, with walls moving and stairs shifting. Follow me.”

Suddenly encouraged she hastily made her way up a stone stairway that definitely hadn't been there a few minutes earlier. After several turns, tracking back one time, and walking _through_ a door – cause apparently you couldn't open it like any other normal door – they finally arrived. Dean was never going to complain about the bunker having too many rooms and corridors again.

“Thank you for your help, Miss Amber. It was certainly needed. Hope to see you in class today.”

The girl blushed, stammered a good-bye and waved as she climbed down a couple of stairs that just appeared in front of her.

Dean swallowed. “Looks like we are going to need a fucking road-map for this place.” A sharp elbow in his ribs made him huff out some air. “Will you knock this out already, Sam?”

“Dude, language! We are supposed to be teachers, act like one. Can't be harder then faking being a fed, right?” 

Ignoring his pain-in-the-ass brother Dean knocked on the wooden door. After a few moments of waiting, he thought screw it – he was a teacher after all- and opened the door. Sam followed suit. 

A huge chandelier dominated the room, spinning softly on it's own as it hang suspended in mid-air. The soft specks of lights illuminated some shelves filled with books of all sizes and shapes, a soft rug and a mishmash of chairs, sofas and plush futons. 

“Look at all these books, Dean. I'm sure they have some lore that even the Men of Letters were unaware of.” Sam was already fingering an old dusty book with a leather binding. _The known, unknown and non-known ways to defuse a witch - a practical guide to keeping your witch calm and happy_. Maybe we can give Rowena a copy?” 

In the corner at the back of the room, Dean saw a man sitting in a leather sofa, legs crossed. His foot was moving from side to side in a relaxed manner as he turned the page of the newspaper he was reading. Looking up the man locked electric blue eyes on Dean. 

Hell no, Dean thought and quickly turned around, making his robe twirl dramatically. 

“Sam, let's go. We are going back to Kansas.” Dean was almost out the door, escaping both Sam's confused face and the man with sapphire eyes – double points for him- when of course, his brother noticed the guy and had to strike up a conversation. 

“Dean, I think he knows you. He is going to be our guide for a few days, just to ease us in since we are Muggles and all.”

“Hello, Dean,” the man greeted.

That dark, low voice was as Dean had remembered it and even after all those years it made his blood boil hotter. He forced himself to turn around.

Sam looked at his brother, face grim like he was facing Death herself (been there, done that) and then back at the professor, calm and impassive.  
“Have you guys met before or...”

“No”, Dean shouted just as the same time as the professor said “Yes”.

Narrowing his eyes, Sam looked at his brother. “Dean... what is going on?”

“Okay, that's it. I'm fine, I know what you are going to say...First of Cas, I'm not a mewglee, whatever the fuck that is.” Dean held up one finger, and quickly produced a second one. 

“Number two, I made no promises, none what so ever, and if I did I was fucking drunk and you know that doesn't count, and three...” At this point Dean had forgotten his reasons for him wanting to leave the room and tossed all notion of pretending not to know Cas out the window,” and three: “I did as you asked but you were asleep! Not my fault!” 

Sticking up a fourth finger for good measure Dean hissed: “And why do you get to wear a goddamn tailored suit?”

Cas just arched an eyebrow, waiting until Dean finished his tirade. 

“Is he always this hot-headed Sam?” 

Not waiting for an answer from the younger brother, Cas continued, “It's pronounced Mug-ull, not like some weird Mew-happy-Mowgli-hybrid.”

“The years have been good on you, by the way,” Cas remarked casually as he motioned for them to follow him outside.

Taken aback and not really knowing what to say Dean remained silent. After a few turns his brother spoke.

“So, how do you know each other again?” Sam asked offhandedly, pretending to study another one of those ridiculous moving paintings. If Dean could shot daggers with his eyes, Sam would be dead already.

“We dated... what, was it, five years ago. Back when I was still in Kansas. Six months take or leave...”

“It was five months,” Dean interrupted.

“You dated? You dated this guy for six months and never mentioned anything to me? What the hell Dean? And... when did you have time to date?” Sam added,a disapproving frown on his face. 

Dean smiled wryly. “You know, those time I said I was going to that bar, Odysseys, well... I was there. But just for 20 minutes or so.”

“Mm”, Cas mumbled, “then he came to me, babbling sweet things, said he was in love with me.“ Cas narrowed his eyes. “Didn't have the guts to say it sober, so he had a few to muster up the courage. The fucking that night was the best I've ever had though, so I give him that.”

Dean interrupted him, horrified. “Cas, don't curse, there are kids here! And this is so not a talk we should be having in front of my baby brother.” 

“It's okay, Dean. I may be your baby brother but I am 35 years old after all. I think I can take hearing from a stranger you dated, that you totally behaved like an ass.”

Dean ground his teeth together. 

“But he was always acting suspicious,” Cas continued “I suspected him cheating on me, unlikely as that would be, and when he finally decides to come clean, he does it in writing, instead of actually talking to me. Some incoherent ramblings about chasing monsters and other supernatural beings that he writes down on three post-it notes – probably drunk out of his mind- and leaves me to find when I wake up. And that was that.”

Cas looked back at Dean. “But we are fine now, aren't we Dean? Besides, after that incident Rowena found me and I got this job so, at least something good came out of it.”

“Wow, Dean...” Sam sounded incredulous.

Cas was impassive as he agreed. “I guess that a nice way to sum all this up.”

Looking down Dean tried to convince himself that his cheeks were red due to anger, but he knew better. Shame burned bright and he cursed himself. He had really liked Cas.

Dean hesitated but curiosity got the better out of him.  
“So how did you end up here beside by recommendations from Rowena? Are you a ...wizard?”

That got a genuine laugh from Cas, his eyes twinkling as he shock his head. 

“God, no. I'm a professor in sociology. Most of the wizards find the muggle-world... strange, so I have classes in how to blend in, avoid alerting the humans to their presence, things like that.”

Stopping in front of a door, Cas looked at them. “This is it. I will be with you in the classroom, at the back after your introduction.” He snorted. “Although I doubt that will be needed, you are basically the muggle version of Harry Potter. Everyone knows of Harry and everyone knows of the Winchester's.”

Opening the creaky wooden door, Sam walked in first, to excited murmurs from the students. Dean followed, but not before taking a look at Cas again. For a second he thought he saw sadness and regret – and worst of all, understanding – in Cas' eyes as he looked at Dean, but Dean probably saw what he wanted to see. Cas adjusted his suit, nodded imperceptibly and they walked in, closing the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have read all the Harry Potter books, but it was many years ago, so, this came to me in a haze. Mistakes I made about the magical interior of Hogwarts is all on me.


	8. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Singer Dean and bass-player Cas have just finished their last concert. After drinks and late talks with the other band-members they go back to their room for down-time. Cas has other plans though... 
> 
> Today's prompt was: Rockstar. 
> 
> As always comments are appreciated and makes my heart soar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is smutty, describes sexual acts and is rated M.  
> Warning for face-slapping, and saliva.

Still with a high from the performance and their fans singing along to _every_ fucking song, Dean doesn't particularly take note when Castiel, bass-player and Mister Eyefuck of the band shuts the door to their hotel-room with more force then necessary. 

Castiel grabs Dean by the arm, and slams him against the wall so hard, it knocks the breath out of him. One arm goes over his throat, pressing hard. Chitchatting with the other members before calling it a night, Dean had actually managed to push their hurried conversation right after the incident to the back of his mind. Now it came back with acute clarity. It's uncomfortable to swallow and what comes out is more a hoarse whisper then anything else. 

“Cas...” 

Dean takes note of the disapproval on Cas' face and swallows. The wall is hard against his back, but not as hard as his cock, that decided this was a good opportunity to spring to life. Cas puts his whole weight behind the arm pinning Dean to the wall. 

“You think that was a smart move?” Just to be sure, Cas looks down at Dean's left hand. His fist is clenched tight, but the pinkie is out. 

Moving back just an inch, Dean can still feel Cas' body pressed close to him but the arm over his throat is gone. Thrusting his fingers through Dean's spiky hair Cas grabs hold tightly, making him grimace. The pain sends shivers throughout his body and Dean exhales slowly, trying to compose himself.

“Take off your clothes and place them on the table. Then wait in the middle of the room.” Castiel turns his back on Dean and goes into the bedroom. 

Removing the leather jacket and T-shirt Dean folds them with care. He does the same with his favorite ripped jeans and his underwear, stacking his clothes and puts his black sneakers next to the pile. 

When Dean is satisfied he goes to the designated spot, sinking down to his knees on the soft carpet and clasps his hands behind his back. Staring straight ahead he ignores the impulse to let his eyes drift towards the door. After what Dean's cock deems an eternity he finally hears the telltale sound of the bathroom door being opened again. A shimmer at the corner of his eyes tells him Cas is naked. His cock jumps.

“Eyes down.”

Warring emotions go through him , disappointment that he can't lay his eyes on Cas, a sudden morbid impulse to do it anyway and a thrill at the curt orders. Dean lowers his eyes, softly bending his neck. He hears a content sigh from Cas and that is enough. 

Cas walks to stand behind Dean and his presence is all-consuming. Dean can feel it like electricity crackling but Cas just stands there and then his right hand wraps around Dean's throat and squeezes. Focusing on the feel of tight hands and his own pulse hammering away wildly Dean is lost in sensations until Cas speaks, close to his ear.

“Rise up on your knees, and let your arms rest at your sides.” Cas lets go of his throat and then he is in front of Dean. One hand cups Dean's chin, urging him to look up and the head of Castiel's cock is there, poking around Dean's mouth, prodding. He opens his mouth and Cas pushes in. 

The musk of Cas, the taste of him on Dean's tongue, it makes him all needy and his cock is leaking precome on the carpet and he just wants more. Swirling his tongue around Cas head, Dean moans. The acting of sucking cock always turns him own. Thrusting in and out, Cas wraps a hand around his throat and the other is in Dean's hair. Momentarily there is a pause. The heavy cock is just resting in Dean's mouth and he is breathing out through his nose.

Softening his jaw and letting go, relaxing and Cas finally starts fucking his mouth in earnest, using his grip on Dean as leverage. His hips thrusting in and out, his cock is hitting the back of Dean's throat. Finally Cas lets out a moan. Trying to swallow down all the saliva is impossible, and Dean's tongue is moving awkwardly around in his mouth with no place to go, eliciting a pleased sound from Cas.

 

“Fuck Dean, you are so good, boy”.

Dean thinks it's impossible to feel more, but the words from Cas lips sends a sharp arrow of lusts straight to his balls. Saliva is running down on the side of Dean's mouth, on his chest and a small string is dripping on the floor. Dean tries to balance on his knees but he is getting wobbly and his thigh muscles strain and relax trying to keep him upright.

With one more moan escaping Cas lips he lets go of Dean and more saliva runs down Dean's chin. The carpet is wet, and his chest is all sticky. Feeling dirty, shame wars with lust inside him and the combination is so good. Dean looks down but a hand is there, gently guiding him until he looks up.

“Eyes on me.” Dean looks up at Cas. His cheeks are slightly flushed, black hair disheveled and the lust burning in his eyes fills Dean with a sense of awe. Cas reaches out to Dean, touching his right cheek and his thumb strokes soothing patterns even as some saliva is being smeared around. Leaning in to the touch, Dean sighs.

There is a slight shift in Cas, a sudden resolve in those ocean-blue eyes that darken slightly and that is all the warning Dean gets. Cas hand retracts swiftly and then a sharp pain explodes across Dean's cheek, sending him reeling back. The impact causes his heart to thunder rapidly in his chest, the sudden adrenaline surge having nowhere to go. His eyes widen in surprise as pleasure coarse through him. Dean exhales but Cas attention is elsewhere. Closing his hand, pinkie out Dean does the sign and then Cas looks at Dean again, a small smile playing there. 

It's gone in an instant and then Cas rubs Dean's sore cheek. Moaning softly at the sensation Dean closes his eyes just briefly. Another hard slap on his cheek makes his eyes fly open and pleasure blooms in Dean's veins. 

Stepping back Cas licks his lips. 

“Get down on all fours. Spread your knees slightly.”  
A sigh escapes Dean as he is allowed to move from his kneeling position. He lowers himself down on all fours slowly. A hard slap on his ass cheeks makes him moan in pleasure. 

The cold of the lube against his hole causes Dean to jump in surprise. Cas' fingers dig into his hips. 

“I did not tell you to move”, he hisses and slaps him again. Then a finger is there, Cas pushes it in without preamble. Dean cock is painfully hard, making a new stain on the carpet with pre-come. Another finger enters soon, making him more open and teasing Dean for what's to come. Shivering with need, he just wants to feel Cas inside him.

“Hungry for cock, are you Dean? Answer me.” 

Dean's voice is a raw whisper both from the singing earlier in the night and from pent up desire and lust. 

“Yes, sir, please. Fill my hole with your cock.”

That is all the encouragement Cas needs. He positions his member by Dean's entrance, slowly entering him until he bottoms out. Dean clenches around Cas, his fingers gripping the rug tightly to stop him from thrusting back in wanton desire. Closing his eyes, Dean welcomes the sensation, silently urging Cas to move, do more, thrust harder, just fuck him already. 

“Fuck, you feel good Dean. I've been wanting to use your hole for the last hour.”

“Oh, God...” Dean moans incoherently but Cas rebukes him. 

“Be quiet, or there will be no more cock for you,“ he says harshly between moans and grunts of pleasure.

Clenching his teeth to trap the impulsive curse that wants to escape him, Dean focuses on the sound of hips against his ass, as Cas starts fucking him in earnest. Christ, just the sounds Cas is making while fucking him is enough to make Dean want to yield and scream out a string of curses to various deities. 

A hand flutters over his back, caressing tense muscles and it hits Dean suddenly, gratitude for this man that loves him completely and fully. The flutter of fingers splays out, pushing down with force, Dean arches his back in response. 

The angle makes Castiel hit that sweet spot inside again and again. Stopping his pleas is like asking a volcano mid eruption to cool down, he tries but the whispers are tumbling forth from some hidden place Dean is unaware of.

“Please, please, please –”

One hand covers Dean's mouth with unyielding force.

“I told you to be fucking quiet.” 

Cas uses the leverage and hold to increase the force of his thrusts, slamming hard into him. His hand over Dean's mouth, his hard cock in Dean's ass, their skin moving against each other, slick with sweat, the smell of sex, lust and desire, his knees against the carpet; Dean's whole world centers around those physical anchors.

Cas is close, Dean can tell in the way he picks up speed even more, in how Cas' hand on Dean's left hip tightens, almost bruising in strength. Behind him Cas shudders in his release, pumping his come inside Dean. 

Breathing forcefully through his nose Dean is so close, climbing higher and higher when Cas removes the hand covering his mouth and pulls out quickly. The sudden action leaves Dean trembling. Turning his head back in confusion Dean realizes that Cas is next to him, a grin on his face. Cas hand finds Dean's needy cock, just under the purple head and he squeezes hard. 

The wave of pleasure comes crashing down and Dean sobs in frustration as his orgasm dwindles away.

“Fuck, I really enjoyed that.” Cas whispers close to Dean's ear, kisses his sweaty-soaked skin and then grabs his hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck.  
“Did you enjoy the last bit, Dean?” Cas asks as he continues to kiss Dean's throat, the scrape of sharp teeth making the hairs on his arms stand up.

“No, Sir”, Dean says meekly, angling his head to the side, giving Cas more access. 

“Good. And next time you decide to kiss me on stage again, the memory of this session will seem like a sweet dream in comparison. Understood?” Cas pulls at his hair, forcing Dean to look him straight in the eyes; those blue eyes that captured Dean's heart a long time ago.

“Yes, Sir. I understand.” 

Cas smile is radiant. Satisfied with the answer he lets go of Dean's hair and walks over to the couch and sits down. 

“Come here, Dean.” 

Getting up Dean does as he is told. He settles down and cuddles close to Cas, his cheek resting on his lover's chest. Cas wraps an arm around Dean, playing with his dark-brown hair. They sit there content for a while until Cas breaks the silence. There is amusement in his voice. 

“So Dean, how did you like the face- slapping?” 

Narrowing his eyes, Dean refuses to answer but Cas just smiles and reaches down to pinch his nipple hard. The pain makes Dean hiss.

“Fuck, Cas. Fine...“ Cas lets go of the nipple, smiling. “I... liked it. It was very different, um, intense as fuck, almost primal but I liked it. Sent me under like crazy.” 

Looking down at Dean, Cas smile widens. 

“I told you, you would like it, didn't I?” A quick kiss on Dean's head. “Next time just try not to be so fucking bratty on stage. If you can, I know it's almost a second nature to you. Get up. Shower time and then I need some shut-eye.”

“Yes, Cas.” Dean gets up, grabbing Cas hand and kisses it. “Love you.”

Grinning, Cas arches an eyebrow in surprise. “Even when I took away that lovely orgasm you had cumming?”

Dean mouths a “Fuck off”, which only makes Cas erupt in laughter. 

“Love you too, Dean.” 

Still holding on to Cas hand, Dean leads him past the carpet, soiled with his spit and cum, into the hotel bedroom. They shower fast and efficient, rubbing themselves dry with plush towels. 

The bed is welcoming, and as Cas pulls him close – his breath tickling Dean's neck – he sighs, happy and content.


	9. A grand time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean are getting ready to watch a novelty, the first movie with sound.
> 
> Today's prompt was Prohibition/ the 20's.

Adjusting the cuff link on his white shirt striped pink and blue, Dean glanced at Cas, sighing quietly. “Don't get sore, Cas but your tie is wrong. Again.” 

Cas just flashed his teeth, beckoning Dean closer with one finger. “Then come help me, baby.” 

Dean rolled his eyes but as a dutiful boyfriend he still went over to Cas, and adjusted his tie while murmuring: “I'm starting to think you do this on purpose.” Removing some lint he had noticed on Cas blue-striped shirt while up and close, Dean was finally satisfied. “There, now you look like a big cheese.” 

Cas pressed a gentle kiss on Dean's mouth. “That may as it will, but I am your big cheese.” Another kiss and Cas murmured a thank you. “Now, let us hurry. You already have a shirt on, just grab your jacket. I don't want to miss this. We are going to have a grand time, Dean!”

Looking with yearning at the plaid flannel shirt, Dean gently closed the door to the wardrobe.

“I do not understand your wanting looks for plaid shirts,” Cas said questioningly. “Winter will be here in a few months but for now lets enjoy you in some finer material.” 

Dean shrugged. “I don't know Cas. I've always had an affinity for plaid, a certain attraction you might say.”

Narrowing his eyes, Cas sauntered over, whispering in Dean's ear. “If my cook was of plaid, would it demand more attraction from you?”

Pretending a shocked cry, Dean pushed Cas away with one hand. “Cas, not even a broad would succumb to that flattery.”

“Lucky me you are not a broad then.” Cas grinned, putting on his jacket and buttoning it up.

“Should we take hold of a street car for this special occasion, what do you prefer Cas?”

Wrinkles appeared on Cas forehead as he contemplated the question. “No, the weather is fine and we have the bikes. The ride uptown only takes 10 minutes if we ride fast.”

“Do we have time for Java?” Dean asked, hope in his voice.

“No, Dean, we are having the popcorn as we agreed to earlier. We don't want to be late.” Excitement made Cas' eyes shine. “There will be sound! We can't miss a moment.”

“Fine, but it better be worth it,” Dean grumbled but secretly Cas enthusiasm was endearing. Putting the black Derby hat on his head and handing the other hat to Cas, they closed the door behind them as they headed out.

******  
Hopping on the bikes, Dean and Cas pedaled their way uptown, the fastest bike ride Dean could recall in recent memory. Instead of a calm bike ride through the streets, it was Dean trying to keep up with Cas' sudden burst of energy. There wore other rides on Dean's mind that made his cheeks heat as he remembered them. Maybe after the movie they could reenact some of them.

Arriving outside the theater, Cas inhaled the scent of buttery popcorn. Seven cents poorer, they were one bag of popcorn richer. Crowds were already gathering on the streets. Not all were there for the movie screening, but quite more then the usual Friday evening. Ready to watch the first movie with sound, Cas and Dean entered the theater together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of on a tight time schedule today, so this is really short, but what do you do?


	10. Know my name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rock-star Dean Winchester is sent out for a walk to distract his thoughts after tour-bus Baby needs fixing. A cafe in the middle of nowhere finds Dean strangely drawn to its owner Castiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is Mashup, so this is a mashup story with the two words Rock star and Coffee shop. Hope you enjoy and comments are taken to kindly!
> 
> No warnings here, this is just fluff.

It was the kind of place that you passed on your way to a more important place, wedged between Nowhere and Whattown, in other words a perfect place to have an involuntary stop. Ample time before said stop Gabriel, maniac drummer of The Last Grace **,** sixth biggest rock band in the country,could sense something was off with the tour buss. It was a notion of wrongness like pouring milk in the bowl first and then adding cereals or wearing socks with sandals, just wrong. Listening again and hearing a slight vibration Gabriel voiced his concern.

 

“Guys, do you feel that? I think there is something off with Baby.”

 

They had been driving for several hours, eager to get to their destination. The man most heavily promoting the idea of reaching the hotel, Balthazar or Baal as he liked to go by was designated driver. Even though the tour bus was luxurious with nice beds, showers, space for cooking and all that, Baal liked his own space, and being cramped days on end with the rest of the band put him on edge if he didn't get his “me-time” as he called it. So when he couldn't sneak of to a bar or pool, he drove, drawing the curtain up, and ignoring his band members for a couple of hours.

 

“Hello, notice me and my worry, please!”

 

The vibration increased and now there was a distinct sound that was off. Gabriel glanced at Charlie, twirling her red hair unconsciously as her head was bobbing in rhythm to the metal songs she was listening to. She was not paying attention to any weird sounds obviously.

 

Sighing in frustration, Gabriel got up from his seat and went inside Dean Winchester's room. Mr Angel-voice had decided to take a nap, one arm slung over his face, while a book he was reading had slumped to the floor. _Biblical Angels to Romance Angels gone crazy – symbolism and lore throughout history._ Rolling his eyes, Gabriel picked up the book. Yeah that would make him fall asleep too. Walking over to Dean, Gabriel grabbed three strands of his brown hair and yanked.

 

Waking up with a start, Dean cursed. Glancing at Gabriel, the hazel-too-pretty-eyes-of-his narrowed and scowled.

 

“What the fuck, Gabe? Stop doing that. What is wrong with you?”

 

Grabbing Dean's hand to yank him out of bed, Gabriel just grinned. “Yeah, yeah good morning to you too princess. Something is up with the bus. You don't feel Baby shake her stuff so much it feels like she is about to erupt in a twerk?”

 

Now really paying attention for something amiss, Dean could hear it too. And then Baby turned those small shakes into serious vibrations.

 

“Son of a bitch”, Dean growled. He loved Baby.

 

 

Dean didn't even have time to bring his headphones, everyone so much in a hurry they practically threw him out the door. Protesting that Dean was the singer only got him laughs and Baal throwing a pack of Skittles at him.

 

“We have food!”, Dean had objected but Charlie had just kissed him and said “Bye bitch, and remember to grab the red only Mentos if they have.”

 

So now Dean was trudging along on the road upward for what had probably been closer to 20 minutes to find that supposed place Gabriel had seen. Almost at the top he sure hoped he's see the silhouette of houses, a gas-station, even Walmart. He'd take anything at that point; so far he had only seen a dry landscape with thatches of grass here and there and gnarly trees reaching up towards the sky.

 

He should have known better then to trust fucking Gabriel. There was probably nothing more then dead road kill and more asphalt waiting for Dean up ahead. Charlie had called Road-assistance but it would still take God-know-how-long for them to get there. And she knew what she was doing. Everyone thought Dean was insufferable about his Baby and if they had to be stuck with him for hours, sulking – he did not sulk – about the breakdown they would all go crazy. Finally there, Dean glanced down and didn't he win the grand prize in some senior Yahtzee tournament, cause there was something down there alright.

 

The village and that was putting it nicely, seemed to consist of a handful of houses, a gas-station with it's hay-days somewhere in the 70's and of all places - a bakery. Well wasn't that his luck, Dean thought. Even hell could have a gem or two.

 

Entering through the glass door he heard a little bell chime announcing his presence. The few tables and chairs around the bakery – cafe, pot-shop, whatever – were deserted but the place looked nice and clean for what it was worth. Secretly he let out a sigh of relief. There were upsides to being a famous rock star but right now he'd rather opt out of the screaming fans and signing his autograph on napkins, clothes and butt-cheeks if he could.

 

The walls were painted in a pleasant yellow, and the floor was wooden, nicely worn by the weight of countless feet. Straight ahead was the glass display with what seemed to be an abundance of cakes, pies, cookies and various types of bread. What caught Dean's attention though was _behind_ the counter, a seemingly out of place piece of art hanging on the wall.

 

His thighs and pelvis were squished against the glass display as he leaned over trying to get a closer look at the colorful- looking tapestry. Just at that moment a tall, well build man stepped through the doors at the back, holding a plate. His hair was a messy black crown and eyes of most extraordinary blue looked at him with amusement. Stepping back Dean smiled sheepishly and raised a hand in greeting.

 

“Umm, hi. I – “

 

“Hello. I guess you need a minute?” The man smiled and started plating the cookies in a pattern , and then bend down to put them in the display.

 

“Yea, sorry about that. I was just intrigued by the piece of art hanging on the wall.” Dean pointed at the tapestry and saw a surprised look on the man as he got up.

 

Putting the empty plate down the man smiled. “Really? Most costumers just think it's weird.”

 

Dean wanted to point at the old, worn T-shirt he had on, band logo faded but still visible but maybe this was the kind of fan who wanted to ease him into it, before erupting in tears, high-pitched screams or vomits. He'd met all three kinds.

 

“I'm not most costumers.” Dean looked at him. He was kind of cute this guy, had that messy bed-hair going on and an innocent, welcoming vibe that pulled Dean in and made him relax without him even thinking about it. “Not weird at all. It is a nice tapestry. Is that a mudra he is doing?”

 

Well, if Dean thought the guy was cute before he was practically glowing now. Enthusiastically waving his hand motioning for Dean to come, he went around the counter, finally standing in front of the tapestry.

 

“You know mudras?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I know of them, maybe not each and everyone but yeah...”

 

“You are the first one that have used that word, and this piece has been hanging around here for years. I guess most people simply don't have the interest. It's the Dhyana Mudra. It represents the enlightened wisdom and mind, and all the supremacy that entails.” His fingers ghosted over the Buddha sitting cross-legged.

 

There was a lingering smell of cakes, melted butter and different spices coming from the back but Dean could still catch the scent that was the man next to him. Maybe his lips tasted of sugar cause he sure was sweet on the eye. He almost laughed out loud. Maybe he should try that line on Mr Hotcakes. Not today though. The piece of art in front him had captivated his imagination...well the piece of art on two legs also had.

 

“Yeah, there is a lot going on in that tapestry, but there is a nice symmetry to it.” Dean let his eyes linger on the crown on Buddha's head, the mountain tops behind him. “What's with the flag?”

Looking where Dean held a finger the man explained. “That's called the Victory Banner. That is a symbol for Buddha beating the four obstacles that stand in the way to enlightenment, or maras as they are called.”

 

“Mm and those are...?”

 

“Pride, disturbing emotions, fear of death and desire.”

 

Dean snorted and the man looked at him. “Desire, why would you want to get rid of that? That means basically anything goes out the fucking window. Desire is good!”

 

Shaking his head the man explained.

 

“Nah, it's not like that. The monks don't mean it like that. “You can have a desire for being healthy and happy. That's a good thing. But if you hold on to a notion of desire to be say healthy, that can lead to suffering because you get attached to it. So the trick is to be calm and unattached when you are sick, even when you desire to be healthy. Sort of... Half of it have escaped my mind to be honest.”

 

The man shrugged and Dean was kind of disappointed, that he had stopped talking. He had a nice timbre to his voice that made you want to listen to anything and everything.

 

“So you dig Buddhism and the likes. I was into all kinds of weird monsters and shit when I was a kid. Read every book I could find, always had my nose in a book.” He didn't mention why, but that didn't really matter. “Right now, I'm reading one about angels but the rest of the my band give me all kinds of crap about it.”

 

Now Mr SexyHair would drop down on his knees and profess his love for “The Last Grace”, Dean just knew it but the man just carried right on, still happy as a clam.

 

The thought that he was actually not recognizable to at least one person in the world made him relax but also pissed him off a bit. How could he _not_ recognize him? It was not like Dean wanted this guy to be all over the moon about him, but at least a quiver in his voice or bulging eyes of surprise would be cool. Hell, even profuse sweating was fine at this point.

 

“So you are into angels?” The man asked, a mischievous grin on his face, small crinkles appearing around his eyes. “By the way, go ahead and take anything you want for free. It's not everyday I get customers this entertaining.”

 

I would take you and entertain you all right, Dean mused but that was hardly not what Cake-guy meant. He swallowed, reining in his weird attraction. Dean definitely needed to get laid soon if his thoughts were going there. Maybe this guy could... Okay, stop it.

 

“Thanks. Yeah, I kind of like all sorts of mythology but I lean heavily towards angels. Just do.”

 

Turning his attention to at all the delicious pastries, he was going for chocolate-cake when he saw cherry-pie all down at the bottom, Charlie's favorite. Dean was kind of both a cake-and-pie-man but Charlie, she was all about pie.

 

The man let out a small chuckle at that.

 

“Mm, yeah? I think you will find my name amusing then. Let me take that for you.” He grabbed the pie from Dean's hand and started to wrap if up for him.

 

When the silence carried on it was obvious that he wasn't going to say anything else, so Dean took the bait.

 

“Fine, I'll shoot. What is your name?”

 

Finishing up the wrapping of the pie, the man extended his hand. “I'm Castiel.”

Dean grabbed it. “Castiel? Castiel... like the angel?”

 

Castiel laughed and it was a rich sound, filling Dean with an emotion he couldn't quit put his finger on, but it was pleasant, like Castiel didn't have a care in this world.

 

“That's not a name you see everyday. Shield of God.”

 

Letting go, Castiel rolled his eyes. “I don't know about that, more shield of this cafe with all it's wayward visitors. And you were?”

 

“I'm Dean Winchester.”

 

 _Now_ , the penny would drop but Castiel – nah, that was an mouthful, Cas – just stood there, as if waiting for an explanation.

 

“ _The_ Dean Winchester?” Dean continued with some incredulity tainting his voice. “I am the singer for The Last Grace.” Finally he got a reaction as Cas widened his eyes and there was a note of excitement in his voice.

 

“You sing? I do too, Tibetan throat-singing!”

 

Dean just gave up and laughed. “That's great. I'm sure you are great at.. um, that kind of style, Cas.” Suddenly Dean remembered why he was there. That had to be a testament to this strange attraction he felt for this Cas-dude, not once had he thought about his Baby and the reason he was here in the first place.

 

“Look Cas, I got to go,” he said and grabbed a small stubby pencil, hidden in the back of his jeans. Taking a napkin he scribbled down his number. “I might be wrong, but if not, and we kind of had a moment here, just take my number and call me... maybe?” He held out the flimsy piece of paper.

 

Castiel shoved the pie towards his direction, and for a gut-wrenching second Dean thought he'd get rejected or worse, ridiculed but Castiel just smiled and grabbed the napkin.

 

“Thank you Dean. I will no doubt give you a call.”

 

Dean just nodded as he turned around. Walking out of the bakery-coffee-Buddha-thing, he still hadn't figured out what it was, pie in hand, he cast one last look at the place and headed back towards Baby and the gang.

 

 


	11. The end is all we have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester from 2009 finds himself waking up in 2012 - with the help of Zachariah, in a world overridden with Croatoans. There he comes across a version of himself he doesn't recognize and a version of Castiel he never wants his angel to turn into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt was Endverse! I had fun writing this one. Enjoy, and don't be lurkers, leave comments. =) Thank you to all my readers. Criticisms is appreciated.
> 
> Big warning for some abusive behavior and a baby warning for reference to smoking a joint.  
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It is hard to pinpoint the exact moment when something changes. It comes in small increments, not necessarily chipping away but more hollowing out at a slow and steady pace like the drip of water causes the stone to change until you find yourself waking up and not recognizing yourself or the world around you. 

A small chuckle escapes Castiel and he inhales some more smoke, closing his eyes. Blissfully his mind wanders away but he knows the storm is coming. It always does.

Π

Castiel grunts as he is slammed back against the wall in the cabin. A strong hand curls around his shirt, twisting while another hand grabs his wrist in a vice-like grip, hard enough to bruise. The capacity for feeling pain, in all its different incarnations is something that still surprises him, even after all these years. 

“Did you do this?” Dean snarls and his body is close to Cas, almost engulfing him. He wishes it was a different kind of closeness but he would take what he could get. The pain radiating through him causes Cas to be somewhat more in tune with his current predicament, so he considers that a plus. Staring at Dean, his brows furrowed in anger and his eyes hard, he shrugs.

“Do what? Fuck Hannah, Sara and Risa?” Yes, I considering doing that... not Risa though, I left that one for you.” 

Cas can see that Dean is aching to say something in the way his jaw sets and his lips part. That's what he usually does but today he is holding back. Cas's raises his eyebrows in surprise. Dean eases up a bit, but Cas is still pressed to the wall waiting for what's next. His wrist is throbbing with pain, but at least it's not broken. 

“Not that... Did you use your angel mojo and make him appear?” Dean grits out.

There is a heavy feeling in Cas' chest, one that he has learned through hard lived experience is called sadness, grief. The hateful tears start to well up and he quickly hides them behind a shield of bitterness and contempt, mostly at himself.

“Angel mojo? Do I look like an angel to you?” he replies curtly.

Finally Dean lets go of him and Cas sighs, not really sure if the sense of relief is for himself or for Dean.

“Yeah, that well ran dry years ago. Stay here,” Dean commands. “I will be back in a short while.” 

Looking around his room, _their_ room, at the clothes spread out haphazardly, the small orange plastic-bottles in different sizes cluttering the bed and the bags of weed on their table, Dean's eyes harden. “And clean this shit out, at least that's something you _can_ do. We'll have company soon.” Dean grabs his rifle and slams the door shut as he leaves.

 

Π

Sorting the “shit out” as Dean so eloquently put it still leaves Cas with ample time to find another wayward pill. Swallowing it, he waits for the pain to subside and calm to gather around him. Trying not to let his thoughts linger on tomorrow, he sinks down to the floor cross-legged and lets his thoughts center on Dean. 

The one that held him close when he had first realized he was slowly turning human. The one that kissed him with love and passion, fingers in his hair not because of anger but due to passion. The one that always wanted him around, not because he was needed but because he was wanted. The one that loved him. 

Opening his eyes, Cas rolls his neck and shoulders, tries to let the kinks out when the door opens.

Dean walks in, a figure slumped heavy over his shoulder. Unceremoniously he walks over and drops the man down on his side of the bed. Grabbing a pair of handcuffs, he attaches one to the man's wrist and secures the other one to the bedpost.

Mouth set in a hard line, Dean looks at Cas. “After the meeting you and I are going to have a little talk.” Dean glances at the unconscious body laying on the bed. “I'll head out now, Charlie and Victor needs me to go over some supply info about the Western Quadrant. This _will_ happen tomorrow, Cas.” He pauses and Dean's voice is softer now, like it was before Detroit, and Croatoans, _before_ this mess that had become them. “Will you be there?”

Cas should have hesitated, he knew that was the proper thing to do, but when had he ever been proper? “Yes Dean, I will be there.”

“Good. If he wakes up, you come and get me, understood? You don't tell anybody else, just me. We don't know what the fuck is going on, but it sure as hell can't be good news.”  
Looking a last time at the body, and then at Cas, Dean nods and leaves.

With Dean gone Cas slowly walks over to the bed, and what he sees makes his breath catch. 

Slumped to one side, a man is sleeping. Short brown hair that Cas used to ruffle up. A straight nose peppered with freckles, freckles that Cas had kissed adoringly. Lips slightly plump that Cas used to hear loving sentiments from. A strong body that Cas knew as well as he knew his own as they had embraced together in passion, comfort and love.

“Dean”, he whispers and falls down on his knees. Closing his eyes he tries to remember how many pills he took, how much alcohol he had consumed. This was surely a mirage but why would Dean, _his_ Dean want to hide him then?

Cas thoughts and fears, that this simply is a hallucination induced by his drug riddled brain comes to shame when Dean stirs and slowly opens his eyes.

“Cas?” he rasps and tries to get up from the bed but crashes back down again. One, two hard yanks later at the handcuffs to no avail and Dean settles his attention on Cas. He looks at him and his eyes narrow as he takes everything in, the clothes, the scruffy beard and it seems like Dean sees right through him. 

“Is that you?” There is hesitation there but also profound love that even Cas can hear, mortal man as he is. He can't help it as a smile ghosts over his lips. 

“Fuck, Future-Me sure is a dick”, Dean mutters as his hand goes over his head, checking for blood, bumps or scrapes.

Cas wants to answer Dean's question, shout that yes, it is him but his tongue has turned leaden as his mind tries to process this. This is past Dean, somehow sitting in his bed in his house at Camp Chitaqua. There is a tight sensation in his chest, a terrible ache that wants out and before Cas understands what he is doing, he crawls down into bed next to Dean.

“Cas..?” 

Dean's whisper is full of questions and uncertainty, but mostly Cas clings to how Dean sounds. That single word is filled with more worry and love then Cas has heard in a long time. A hard knot sits in his throat and he starts to shiver. 

“Cas... are you OK?” 

That question triggers something in Cas, and his shoulders start to shake uncontrollably, his breath is labored, like a huge rock is crushing him and his lungs are on fire; every inhale making that burning sensation go deeper. His arm clings to Dean's body in desperation as his head rests on Dean's chest. Cas listens to Dean's heartbeat, it's beating faster then normal, but then again, this isn't a normal situation. 

“What the fuck has he done with you?” Dean curses and pulls on the cuff again.

“I love you, Dean... I always have.” Cas vision is blurry and tears form a path across his cheeks, making a small wet spot on Dean's T-shirt.

He can feel Dean tense up at the declaration, but Cas doesn't care. They are the same person, just years apart, worlds apart. He just needs Dean to hear this without all the words, and actions that have passed between them tainting it and making his intention into something twisted and wrong.

“You have seen me at my best and at my worst. I just... I don't make light of my words, Dean and I will follow you. This certainly wasn't how I thought things would end up but -” Cas stops for a short second. Dean is still on the bed, but Cas feels an arm gently cover him. “I know you were heartbroken when Sam died but it was not your fault Dean, and I know I've disappointed you with just being a human, my grace being gone, I know you needed more –“

Cas feels Dean stiffen and the arm around him is gone.

“Alright Cas, stop, just stop. This isn't... Jesus Christ.” Yanking on the cuff is pointless so Dean shifts some to the side. “Cas, look at me.”  
As he turns Castiel wipes his tears with his sleeves, trying to look more presentable and not so much a mess. 

Dean's green eyes shine with anger, but they are not angry at him, but for him. A strange feeling comes over Cas.

“That dick, Zachariah zapped me here from the year 2009. I told me, well Dean 2.0 everything but he, me.. whatever, thought it was a trap of some sort and knocked me out cold.” 

Dean raises a pleading hand. “Look, I don't know what the fuck has happened between you and... him, and obviously you have some sort of thing going on – ” Dean sighs and speaks again. “Look Cas, this isn't right. He is treating you like shit, he is me and I know shit when I see it, and you are better then that. You have fucking nothing to apologize for.”

Feeling his lips tremble again, Cas leans into Dean and hugs him. He breathes in the scent of him, they both smell the same, at least that hasn't changed. Slowly he raises his hand and strokes Dean's cheek. 

Dean looks at Cas with wide eyes and a heavy breath but he doesn't move. Cas smiles tentatively, remembering that Dean _before_ , was slow but joyful in his realization of his love for him, just as Dean of now was swift to judge and hardly ever showed anything but disdain. 

Cas leans in closer and focuses on those lush lips. Glancing at Dean, he caresses his cheek and when Dean slowly closes his eyes, hiding those green emeralds, Cas kisses him. He tastes like Dean, sunshine, righteousness and peace and as Dean opens up more, Cas sighs and kisses him deeper. Grabbing Dean's hand Cas intertwines his fingers with Dean's and squeezes tight, one last remembrance.

“You can come with me”, Dean blurts out. 

Slowly Cas shakes his head. “I made a promise Dean, to the end. And even though this may have not been as either he or I pictured it – “ He pauses briefly and then continues “or how _you_ have imagined it, I still love him.” The last words are coated in sorrow. Like that explains everything Cas kisses Dean one last time and then gets up.

Opening up his hand, Dean feels the small key to the cuffs resting there. 

Cas speaks softly. “You have maybe 10 minutes, until Dean comes back. Some are at the meeting but most of them will be in the communal buildings. They usually leave the fearless leader alone. Besides you are under Zachariah's protection. You will be good.” Cas shrugs and walks over to a small cabinet to pick up a rolled up joint.

Dean is already working on the handcuffs, but casts one worried glance at Cas. “What about you Cas, will you be alright?” The handcuffs fall to the floor and Dean is up, heading towards the door. He opens it slightly, hesitating as he looks back at Cas, worry written in his eyes.

Flipping the lighter, and taking a drag, Cas smiles. “I will be fine, Dean. I promised him... until the end.” 

It seems to Cas that Dean wants to say something more, but then he just slowly nods. “Bye Cas”, he whispers and then he is gone.

With heavy steps Cas walks over to the bed, and takes a seat, crossing his legs. The familiar ache is back, but it sure felt good to have a reprieve. He almost felt human again. Laughing quietly at that, Cas inhales deeply on the joint, closes his eyes and waits for the storm to return. It never fails to do so.


	12. Same time tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun slowly setting over the prairies, Castiel waits for Dean to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt was Cowboys.
> 
> (Description of hand-job)

Castiel lay in the grass, partially hidden by a rock -formation as the sun slowly set on the open plains. Crickets could be heard, the occasional coyote crying out but the overwhelming sound by far came from the Longhorn herd grazing lazily. The roundup with the cattle had been finished some hour back but Castiel could still feel the ache in his muscles. His horses had been taken care of and he had taken his leave of the camp to seek out some privacy. 

After some time Castiel could hear the shuffle of boots against prairie dust, and then a finger tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey there, cowboy? Want to go for a ride?” Castiel snorted and gazed up. Locking eyes with Dean Winchester, he could see a wide grin spread on his face.

“You don't think this joke is getting old now? What is this, the sixth time?”

Dean Winchester lowered himself to the ground next to Castiel and grabbed his hand. “Actually it's the fifth time Cas, and you still chuckle so. But hey, how about instead of a fifth time we can go to fifth base, hmm?” Dean arched his eyebrow and winked.

Castiel laughed softly and looked out over the prairie. The sounds coming from the cattle had calmed down. Everyone was preparing for the sundown and night to take over. “I don't think this is the right place for that, Dean.”

Making a disappointed sound Dean guided Castiel's hand to his hard cock. “I think someone has other ideas.” He nuzzled Castiel's cheek and kissed his neck slowly, with passion.  
Castiel closed his eyes. 

“I'm not going to fall for this again, Dean.”

“No Cas, you are not?” Continuing to kiss him, Dean pressed Castiel's hand over his hardening cock and moaned. “Those boots, and that cowboy hat, Cas. I can't help it, it's an instant turn-on.”

Enjoying how Dean sounded, Castiel stroke his cock over the denim fabric as he murmured. “We always wear this outfit Dean, it comes with the job.” Castiel squeezed around his bulge and Dean moaned again as he arched his pelvis upward.

“What can I say, I'm in a constant state of I-want-to-fuck-you when I'm around you.” Dean whispered. 

Castiel chuckled and unbuckled Dean's belt, slowly dragging the zipper down. Unbuttoning his jeans, Castiel shoved his hand in Dean's boxers, just letting his hand rest on Dean's hard, rigid cock. 

“Fuck, yes Cas...”

After a couple of seconds, Dean arched his hips upward.  
“Come on, Cas, I'm so ready?” 

Slowly letting his thumb rub over the head, cock twitching in response Cas just shrugged.  
“Mm, just enjoying the sunset. Isn't it beautiful, Dean?” 

Biting his lip Dean looked at Castiel, his black hair sticking out under from the cowboy hat, sky-blue eyes now hidden in the shadows, a straight nose and kissable lips that begged to be tasted. 

“You are very beautiful, Cas.” There was a smile in his voice, an invitation to carry on.

“Mm...” Castiel hummed in agreement and his fingers gripped Dean's cock tight and started stroking him up and down.

Gasping and leaning in on Castiel, Dean enjoyed the sensation, pleasure pooling in the center of his stomach, slowly searching it's way down. 

“Why Cas? Am I not pretty too?” Dean whispered in mock-disappointment.

Grinning, Castiel grabbed Dean's chin and forced his mouth close to his own. 

“Open up.” Dean obeyed and as they kissed, tongues swirling Castiel increased the speed of his strokes. Closing his eyes, Dean moved his pelvis slowly, hips thrusting up. He had been needy for hours. Breaking the kiss Dean, moaned loudly again.

“Fuck Cas, I think I need to come soon...”

“Shh, don't be too loud”, Castiel warned him, “You'll startle the cows.”

Moaning in response, Dean grunted. “I don't care about no stupid cows right -” Interrupting Dean with a kiss, Castiel rubbed Dean's head and then stroke him all the way down, just the way he liked it and and Dean just wanted more and more. 

Every thought was moot, as he finally felt that need to find release and he came, whispering Cas' name over and over again.

“Mm I bet that felt good, Dean,” Cas murmured. Still adrift on that feeling of bliss, Dean's hand went to Cas cheek, pushing him away. 

“Handsome? Beautiful? The sweetest you ever seen?” Dean rose up from the ground. Orgasm bliss over, the evening chill started to seep in under his skin. Dean pulled up his boxers, and adjusted his jeans, zipping them again. “ How about ruggedly handsome?” Dean extended his hand towards Castiel.

With an exasperated sigh Castiel took Dean's hand and heaved himself up. “Annoying, can I use that word? I really want to use that one.” He kissed Dean on the cheek. 

Kissing him back quickly before buttoning up his pants Dean shook his head. “Nope, alrighty. .. Same time tomorrow?”

Cas adjusted his large hat on his head and sighed. “No. I'm heading back to get some sleep and reprieve. God night, Dean.”

Dean waved. “Sounds like a plan. See ya tomorrow, Cas!”

The only thing that greeted him was the night crickets chirping and the occasional bleat of a cow.


	13. Not all angels are bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Castiel was saved by Dean Winchester from Perdition he didn't know who or what he was getting himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt was Reverse. I really enjoyed writing Dean in this one. Hope you like him.
> 
> No warnings here.  
> Comments are appreciated =)

Hearing the distinct flap of angel wings, Castiel turned around. He was still not used to this, but at least the two weeks that had passed had made him stop flinching in surprise every time. He couldn't believe it had been only been fourteen days, sometimes it felt like a lifetime.

“Hiya, Cas. What you up too?” 

Castiel looked at the man in front of him. Soft brown, spiky hair and green eyes in a shade he hadn't quite determined yet. He was thinking moss-green, or maybe jade but it really depended on the lightning. A green hoodie that really complimented his eyes and jeans that fit him perfectly. He was a man to take notice of, despite his casual clothes. Dean Winchester was not like any man he had met before. His lips turned upwards in a smile; nor was Dean what you would expect from an angel.

“Not much, just watching a show.” Dean's eyes flickered to the TV and then back at Cas. 

“That is lovely, Cas but have you... thought about you know? You have angel scum on your ass, and your ass is lovely. Shame someone should defile it.” Raising an eyebrow at Cas, Dean winked and went over to Cas chair, plopping down cross-legged on the hardwood floor.

“You are really not what I had in mind when I think of the word angel. Well, to be fair I thought you were human when we met.” Castiel mused.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Come on, with this face? I'm insulted. This is heavenly beauty.”

Starting to nod, Castiel stopped mid motion. “ Well, it is your vehicle, I would assume it's to your satisfaction.” 

Rolling his eyes, Dean adjusted his hoodie in the back that had fallen out of place. “It's not a fucking vehicle man, it's a _vessel_. My and my boy have been kicking together since the Middle-ages. Well his soul is in Heaven, but when you find human physical perfection you hold on to it.” Dean flashed his teeth.

“How about those eyes, mm? I think they are more crocodile green- with a dab of nuts in them. Hazel is a cool nut.”

Turning of the TV, Castiel glared at Dean. “I have told you to stop reading my mind.” 

Hands up in a defensive gesture, the angel shrugged. “It's not my fault Cas, I'm not even trying. Stop projecting so fucking loud. I've never seen one do it so... effortlessly.”

Castiel muttered. “Half the time I can't remember if I've locked my door or not. Trust me Dean, I'm not trying to project effortlessly – 

Dean cut him off. “Cool. Now answer my question, Cas.” The playful tone was gone from his voice now, and it was lined with steel. A gentle reminder that Dean Winchester was an angel, a soldier of God, after all.

“You are an angel”, Castiel started, “I don't see why you can't you know...” Waving with his fingers in the air, Castiel looked at Dean like that explained everything. “I really don't like needles.”

“It's not a fucking needle. I'd be putting a ward around you, not a tattoo.” Smirking he continued, “Technically inside you, but you get the picture.” 

“I think it's fine, Dean. Nothing has happened.” That was apparently not the right thing to say.

Dean's face suddenly drawn in anger, he grabbed Castiel by his shirt and hoisted him up, slamming him towards the closest wall.

Confusion marred Castiel's face for a second and his heart thundered in his chest, too fast and loud for his own ears. Trying to temper his breathing, Castiel focused on Dean's eyes, and the freckles that spotted his nose.

“Look, Cas. I gripped you from _Perdition_ , pretty tightly if I might add.” 

“I didn't need any saving from that,” Castiel ground out.

Irritation hardly contained, Dean gritted out. “Like hell you didn't, Cas. Those guys in that bar were after you, and trust me, their intentions were anything but nice. Now, whether you like it or not, you _are_ chosen, ordained to be my dick-brother's vessel and he does not play nicely, Cas.” 

Taking a frustrated breath, Dean continued. “ _All_ angels are dicks, and they will screw you over faster then a priest saying Hallelujah, and it's not the nice kind of screwing. This warding needs your consent. So now you listen to me, say yes and let me ward you, you stubborn son of a bitch.”

Dean had a point. That sure didn't sound very pleasant. Doubts swirled in his mind for a second, about everything that had happened to him so far. Angels, age-old prophecies, God and apocalypses in the making and this man too sexy for Castiel's sanity to be an angel.

Looking at Dean again, his eyes intently focused on him, narrowed in anger, Castiel sighed. He couldn't really deny what was in front of him.

“And you Dean? Are you a dick?”

Smirking, but relaxing his grip on Castiel, Dean backed away ever so slightly but his presence was still overpowering. 

“I'm the right kind of dick, Cas.”

Decision made, Cas sighed and he felt lighter, like this was the right thing to do no matter how crazy it sounded.

“Fuck you, Dean.”

Smiling, Dean whispered. “In time, Cas. So, what's your answer going to be? I know it already, just say it.”

“Yes, Dean, the answer is yes. Go do your warding-magic. Will it leave a mark...?”

Sighing in relief, Dean let go of Castiel. Looking at his right arm, Dean swallowed. A barely visible hand-print graced the muscles, but to Dean it glowed like the sun. He hadn't meant to do that, but sometimes things unfurled on their own. Master plan of the Big Guy upstairs or something. Dean had long gone stopped believing in master-plans though.

“Give me your arm, Cas.” Dean noticed the hesitation and he sighed in frustration. “Christ, there will be no needles, now just relax already.”

Reluctantly, Castiel extended his arm. “You know, for a guy that knew nothing about these occult things three weeks ago, I am rather relaxed. I'm taking this extraordinary well, Dean.” 

“You want a medal? And it's not occult, its supernatural.” Dean pulled Castiel's sleeve up, exposing soft flesh. Gripping Cas arm tightly he produced the angel blade, and when he felt Castiel starting to tug, the grip tightened. “Relax.”

“You said no needles.” Castiel looked back from Dean to the blade. 

Making a soothing gesture, his hand caressing Castiel's cheek, Dean aimed the tip at his arm. “This isn't a needle, it's a blade. Now, don't move, Cas.”

Castiel could feel the cold of the blade's tip press on his skin. His mouth was dry, this was really bad. A blade was basically an over-sized needle. He focused his eyes on Dean's chest, staring straight ahead and trying not to faint.

“Think about something pleasant. Rainbows and sun and goats.” Not having time to ponder on that, Castiel hissed, feeling a sharp pain as Dean cut him with the angel blade. Blood starting pouring from the wound.

“Fuck, that hurts.”

“Mm,” Dean said absentmindedly, clearly focused on the task. He gripped Castiel's arm over the fresh wound and spoke in Enochian, words that sounded harsh and had an unfamiliar rhythm to them, Castiel had never heard of.

_"Elo-abo-ape-ra. Ors-co-red-azo-dizo-da. Pa-id!"_

Castiel cried out in surprise as a brilliant pain shot through him. His arm was surely on fire, burning up, eyes blinded by light so bright, it seemed to engulf the entire room. His body was vibrating, shaking in rhythm to some unheard song, and then everything stopped.

Breathing out harshly, Castiel looked around the room but everything was as normal. He was still in the living room, being very close to a wall with Dean, Grade A- angel Winchester, staring at him.

“You could have warned me about that!” 

Dean just shrugged. “You would never have done it otherwise, and this was necessary, Cas. To protect you.” Looking at his arm still bleeding, Dean spoke more gently now. “Let me fix that for you.” Noticing Castiel's hesitation, Dean sighed. “I will always protect you Cas. Don't worry.”

“Fine.” Dean's hand barely hoovered over his skin, a bright blue light glowing and then Castiel's arm was healed.

“Now you need to rest, and I need to take care of a few things upstairs.”

Dean grabbed Castiel by the arm and dragged him towards the bedroom. Castiel objected to no avail and when they were in front of the bed, he was glaring daggers.

“We need to have a talk about you ordering me around, Dean.” 

Playing absentmindedly with the buttons on Castiel's shirt, Dean spoke low. 

“I am not ordering you around. I'm merely suggesting you take a nap. This is old magic and humans usually feel an overwhelming need to sleep after such an event. You know, old magic, frail human constitution. It comes with the territory.”

Dean was close to Cas, staring intently into his blue eyes. Sometimes Dean wondered if there wasn't some hidden Grace in there causing them to refract the light into that eerie, beautiful shade of blue.

Castiel swallowed. He had wanted to kiss Dean since he met him. Maybe not when he was being saved from a mob, but later when they were safe. He had entertained the notion.

“I'm not sleepy”, Castiel murmured, his voice husky and blood suddenly aflame with desire.

Dean's smile reached all the way up to his hazel-green eyes, and somehow he became more beautiful. He raised his hand to Castiel's cheek and Castiel could hardly contain his eagerness to just kiss Dean now but he would wait. 

“Sure you are, Cas.” Dean's hand continued up, and pressing two fingers on Castiel's forehead he slumped down, falling into the bed. 

A flap of angel wings were the only sound announcing Dean Winchester's departure.


	14. Lessons from a witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam Winchester wakes up in a forest, due to a curse from a witch. Quickly Sam realizes that this isn't a normal forest. Dean and Cas are nowhere to be seen. Will Sam be able to get out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt was Disney.
> 
> My first drabble with PoV Sam Winchester and it was hard. I'm not 100% about this one but it's a start.

Sam woke up disoriented, his body feeling heavy. Trying to move his limbs felt like an insurmountable task and for a few seconds he was just still. Finally the dizziness eased off.  
That witch had packed a mean punch. Carefully pushing himself up, he looked around at what appeared to be a clearing in a forest. No sight of Dean or Cas. 

The sun was high in the sky. Sam squinted at the bright light. It looked like the sun was bigger then usual, more radiant. Looking at the grass and leaves was almost painful. The grass shifted in different shades of green, and kneeling down Sam combed his fingers trough it, it was really thick. Scratching his head, he stopped. His hair felt amazing. Well it was before too, but this was like he had used that really expensive conditioner for months in a row, instead of just now and then.

Hearing some birds Sam followed the sound. Three of them where happily chirping on a branch, round purple balls of feathers. One bird fluttered it's tiny wings and hovered briefly above the ground. Sam frowned.

“Just great, I think I know what is going on.” Sam raised his arms straight out, and sure enough the three plump birds fell of the branch in their eagerness to land in his hand. Looking hard at a bird, he mumbled. “So, are you a Snow white one, Bambi maybe, or a mishmash?” Whatever the witch had done, it was obvious he wasn't in the Bunker anymore or anywhere on Eearth. This was probabbly some witchy spell-realm. 

With the birds gone Sam could hear the faint rush of water. Going through the thick of some bushes, Sam could see a small river run lazily across the greens. Cupping his hands to fill them with water, he could see his reflection like in a mirror. Sam smiled. At least he was the same. If his hair had been long like Rapunzel's he would never hear the end of it from Dean. 

Thinking of Dean, were was his brother? It was as if there mere thought conjured him forth. Through some bushes Dean sauntered out and Sam raised his eyebrows. Wearing tight blue pants and knee-high boots, with a blue tunic over a white undershirt, and a red cape flowing after him, Dean very much looked the part of the prince. A very angry prince.

“Sam! Why are you still looking the same?” 

Sam couldn't help the huge grin on his face. “Ah, there is my lost prince.”

Glaring, Dean adjusted the cloak that kept falling out of place. “This is stupid. When I get my hands on that witch --”

“Look, Dean, I don't think it's that kind of curse. There is no hex bag that I've seen. I mean... look at this place. Don't you think it's strange that the grass is so green? Isn't the sun a bit too much? Have you looked at the water?”

“Curse? What are you on about? This place looks fine. Grass is green, and skies are blue. What more do you want? What's wrong with the water?”

Narrowing his eyes, Dean went to the small river and peered into the water. “Well hi there. Maybe that cape isn't so bad after all.” Getting up Dean, walked back to his brother.  
“So, the water is super fresh and really clear. All good, Sammy.”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Sam vented his frustration.“No, it's not all good. It's practically a mirror, Dean!” 

Dean patted Sam on the shoulder. “It's a pretty fine picture it shows, you know.”

Something was wrong with Dean and Sam had a growing suspicion about what that was.  
“Dean... You feel a certain pulling of sorts? Anything specific you want?” 

He was getting ready for the usual: Baby, good coffee in the morning and the standard “Where is Cas?” which was Dean's runabout way of saying, “Why isn't Cas with me, I miss him.” Those two would be the death of him with their “secret” stares, even a blind man could see coming for miles.

“Why would I --” Dean cut himself of abruptly and raised a hand, pointing vaguely back into the forest. “Let's go for a walk Sammy, it's a good day and my royal self needs some shaking up. Love is in the air!”

A blue bird flew down and perched itself on Dean's finger. He let it jump up on his shoulder and off they went. Great, Dean was cuddling with birds and apparently didn't have any thoughts about getting away from this enchanted place: let alone realized that this was probably some witch's doing. He had a hunch that they would have to follow the story to the end to escape.

Sam was _really_ grateful he wasn't under the same spell, cause then they would've probably be trapped here indefinitely. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam hoped that was not the case. As long as Dean didn't erupt into song Sam would be fine. Not even a magical world would have been able to turn Dean's croaks into something resembling a fine tune. Following Dean they trudged deeper into the woods.

_____________________________________________

Sam had to admit that Cas looked really good. Maybe it was this place that made everything brighter and more appealing. Maybe it was that Cas didn't have the usual trench coat but wore black leather shoes, yellow cotton pants and a blue tunic. Even if it wasn't the look Sam would think Cas would choose for himself it sure was something Dean liked, since he had been staring at Cas for several minutes. Then there was the pacing.

This was worse then back home, when Dean got all sullen if Cas suddenly left, or when they had been in a fight and then didn't speak to each other for hours. Not to mention the constant eye-fucking. Sam was surprised that _he_ wasn't pregnant yet.

Dean had been circling around the glass casket for the last 10 minutes, wringing his hands in despair. For the love of God, just open the casket. Sam had tried and the lid wouldn't budge.

“He is beautiful, Sammy. There must be some potent magic keeping him asleep. Maybe we shouldn't disturb such a fair prince!”

Rubbing his hand over his face Sam sighed, he did that a lot he noticed. Maybe that was _exactly_ what they, well Dean, needed to do. Apparently Charming Dean was way into this story, to think or see clearly. 

“Dean.”

Dean turned around and glared at Sam, his eyes narrowing and his face the picture of royal indignation. 

Putting his hands up in an exasperated sigh, Sam did what he had to do. “Your Royal Highness, don't you think maybe … a token of your affection would help the prince wake, like maybe -”

“You are right, even though you are of common folk.”

“Common folk?” Sam sputtered, “I am your br– you know what, never mind.” 

Dean was already away but returned shortly with some flowers. He put them on the ground as he carefully lowered the lid of the casket. Grabbing the flowers again, Dean put them next to Cas and took a step back.

“Rise, my sweet prince.”

God, Dean, he is not a freaking zombie or Frankenstein, Sam thought and stepped closer. As predicted nothing happened. Glancing at his big brother, Dean looked stricken. His brows were furrowed and he was chewing on his lip.

“I don't understand. I can felt it, Samuel. He is my true love. I feel it like a fire in my heart, a desire that strikes me down to my very core and fuels --”

Oh he was Samuel now, was he? This was worse then Dean bursting out in song. He really didn't need to stand here and hear Dean recite his erotic thoughts about Cas. Dean being all flustered, lip-licking, eye-glaring and longing at home was enough.

“Thank you, um, your Royal Highness. I think I get the picture. How about... you know a kiss?”

Dean stared at Sam like he had invented pie. 

“A kiss? Of course a kiss would help my fair prince awake. I knew that!”

Sam just smiled. God, hurry up already. Sam had the urge to just grab Dean by his hair, and smash his face together with Cas' to get it over with. Even in magical land their love was progressing at a snail's pace. 

But what if Dean was the one that had to take the first step or else they would not make it back home? This place was making Dean more weird by the minute. Having been patient with his brother's dilly-dalling around Cas for years, Sam could wait a few more minutes. 

Dean looked at Cas, a smile on his lips and then he went somber. Slowly he bent down, parting his lips and then kissed Cas. Sam couldn't help the smile breaking out; this had been years in the making. Dean deserved happiness and so did Cas.

There was some movement, a twitch of fingers, Cas' chest going up and down as he took measured breaths and then Cas opened his blue eyes, staring intently at Dean. Sam tapped his foot in the grass. Come on guys, skip to step 2 already, Eye-fuck look number 8 had already been established for years.

Dean looked down at Cas in confusion. 

“What they fuck are you wearing, Cas?” There was silence for a few seconds, the birds still singing, and then Dean noticed his clothes. “What the fuck am _I_ wearing?” 

Noticing Sam's apparent lack of costume clothes Dean pointed a finger at Sam. “Why are me and Cas the only ones looking like carbon copies from _Enchanted_?”

“The story isn't about me Dean, it's about you and Cas.”

Suddenly everything turned black.

_____________________________________________

Opening his eyes Sam exhaled in relief as he was back in the bunker again, in his own room. Blinking he tried to focus and realized that he remembered everything. Great, then Dean and Cas would remember everything too, and they would be insufferable. Doing the whole avoidance things, stare angrily in each other faces and hope the other one would make the move first.

Getting out of bed, Sam grabbed his empty coffee cup and headed for the kitchen. He thought about searching out Dean, but if his brother remembered everything he would probably lock himself in his room until he mustered up enough courage to act like nothing had happened. Maybe Sam should just lock both of them up in a closet and toss the key. Eventually they'd have to see reason. One more decade of this and Sam would get gray hairs. Hair like his deserved better.

Walking into the kitchen, Sam halted at what was in front of him. Dean had one hand in Cas's hair gripping him tight. The other hand was around his waist, pulling Cas close in an embrace. Cas' hands gently holding Dean's face and they kissed deeply, like they couldn't get enough of each other. 

Sam's cup went to the floor with a loud crash. 

Dean and Cas interrupted their kissing, both turning their attention to the sudden sound. Dean looked annoyed -happy as fuck- but mostly annoyed. Cas was just glowing, a huge grin on his face.

“Hiya, Sammy... do you mind?” 

Sam cleared his throat, but couldn't help the smile that was spreading over his face.

“Hi, Sam”, Castiel said, voice raspier then usual. 

Looking at the shattered cup on the floor, and then again on his brother, and Cas, hello brother-in-law in the making, Sam smiled again. 

“I will... come back at another time. Leaving you alone now.” 

Dean and Cas apparently didn't care cause they just returned to one another and started what Sam would later dub Make out-look 2.

As Sam walked out of the kitchen and back towards his room, he yelled. “Fucking finally, guys!”


	15. New and old beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel, a hard-working detective decides to go to a bar to relax before starting his new job. There he meets a man, that to his surprise catches his interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt was Mafia/Cop. 
> 
> This just came to me, which was surprising since Mafia/cops are really not my thing.
> 
> No warnings.
> 
> Enjoy and don't be afraid to leave comments... or not ; )

Castiel had only been in the club for a few minutes when he regretted going there in the first place. It was not that he regretted the drink he had ordered, or all the cute guys eyeing him. Hell, usually he would flirt back, kiss someone if he really liked them, exchange phone numbers, the usual. This was his first weekend in town, and on Monday he was starting his new job as a police detective so he really should be doing some more research on the case he was assigned. 

One of the biggest crime lords in town, John Winchester had been ruling for decades with a heavy hand but since his youngest son Dean had vanished a couple years back that hand had gone from heavy to cruel, to suddenly go back to so called normal levels of violence and mayhem. The detectives and officers assigned to the case finally had some valid leads and a witness that was willing to testify. Castiel had a superior in charge and he would get a briefing at work, but he liked to be prepared so all the facts and details about the Winchester Family he knew still swirled around in his head. 

Taking a last sip on his whiskey he decided it was time to head home to his soft bed and what felt like hundreds of unpacked boxes when he noticed a man looking at him. It was hard to tell if his hair was brown or a darker shade more close to black but he was easy on the eye. As the man approached with a confident saunter Castiel noticed not only that his hair was short and brown but that he was a guy according to his tastes in other areas as well. 

Tall with a hint of muscles underneath a white crisp shirt, and black jeans that hugged his legs just right. A straight nose, and lips that were full, just begging to be kissed, hands that seemed strong and capable. Sitting down in a chair next to him at the bar, he exuded confidence and charm. His hazel eyes with a hint of green landed on Castiel, taking in his black hair and blue eyes and then going farther down, all in a relaxed manner like he didn't have a care in the world. 

Castiel felt something awake inside, and to his surprise he realized it was desire. Sure, he usually looked and flirted but to feel that tug of need and desire was something he hadn't experienced since – He cut off those thoughts abruptly and focused on here and now.  
The man turned his attention to the barkeep and made a gesture. Satisfied that he would be taken care of he looked at Castiel again and spoke.

“I noticed you across the bar. This is your first time around here, right?”

Castiel wondered if it was that obvious that he was a new-comer. Sure his home town of Kansas was nothing compared to the millions that were crammed up in this town, living almost on top of each other and don't get him started on the traffic but he was no doe-eyed cornball either.

“Yeah, I just moved here from Kansas. Starting work on Monday.”

The man just nodded. “So, Kansas. That's far away from home. What compelled you to come all the way out here?”

Castiel shrugged. “Work. Isn't it always work when it comes to things like this?”

“Yeah, work. What do you do, you can't live without it and sometimes you can't live with it.” He shrugged but Castiel got the feeling it was a topic he rather not discuss. “So what do you do?” 

Castiel hesitated just a moment. He could tell him he was in law enforcement but then he was usually peppered with a variety of questions from “Are you really a cop, you look way too young for that“, “Can you bring your gun home?“ to “Do you like to shot people?” all of which he was pretty sure this man would not ask, but he had been surprised before. 

“I work with conflict management resolution.” It usually stopped people from asking further questions. Castiel had a suspicion it only worked cause it sounded boring as hell. If by any chance they did ask more questions he had some standard back up-answers. 

“I see. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I get to meet a variety of people, solve problems for them. What's not to like?”

The barkeep approached them and the man ordered a beer. “Do you need another one?”

Castiel should really head home. He should unpack all his stuff, at least the most pressing ones and do a load of laundry. He should go home and read trough those files one more time, just to be up to speed for the day after. He should call his brother, he took a note to really do that, it'd been two weeks since his last call and he could tell Indra was worried with his constant texting. All these should of's and right then and there Castiel thought, maybe this time he shouldn't.

“Yeah sure. I'm Castiel.” 

The man took his hand, his handshake firm and steady. “Castiel, nice to meet you. I'm Michael.”

Castiel was on his fourth beer for the night and awhile back they had moved their conversation to a more quiet and secluded area.

“- so now I'm back home. More of a necessity really but what do you do when you are the guy most suited and your boss really insists?”

Taking a last swig of his beer, Michael was to offer him another bottle when Castiel shook his head. He had had enough and now was the time to head home. It was a shame because he really liked this guy. It was not just that he was attractive, but he seemed genuinely nice and down to earth, a combination that was hard to come by in Castiel's experience.

“Thanks, but I'm good Michael. Time to head home and hit the pillow. I have a ton of things to take care of tomorrow.”

Michael rose at the same time as Castiel. “Don't worry about tip. I got it.” He took one step forward, his hand on Castiel's shoulder brushing away some dust or the like. “I really enjoyed your company Castiel. You seem like a nice guy.” 

He gave a smile that made Castiel feel wanted, like he was the only one in the room, which Castiel knew was a ridiculous notion. He had only been talking to this Michael for a couple of hours, barely knew the guy besides the obvious; he is hot as hell and his job is complicated.

“Pick up your phone.” 

Startled from his thoughts Castiel asked: “What?”

“Pick up your phone, Cas. I'm giving you my number.” 

Feeling suddenly like he was back in high- school all awkward and shy he just did as he was told and fished his phone out from his pocket. Handing it over to Michael, he deftly typed in his number and gave it back.

“If you ever feel inclined to meet again, just call me. I saved it under Michael.” He winked to Castiel of all things and then took a step forward and kissed him on the cheek.

Castiel tried to hide his surprise and managed it almost, save from a faint flush of his cheeks. Putting down walls on those thoughts that threatened to erupt, despite his beer-addled mind he nodded curtly.

“I will, Michael. Thank you for tonight.”

They parted ways outside of the club.

жжжжжж

After the regular meet and greet Castiel had been immersed in reading file-reports, huge stacks of paper on background information, family connections and hierarchy, suspected fronts for illegal operations, suspected and confirmed murders, trafficking and a number of other shady activities that the Winchester-family and affiliates were responsible for.

“And the rise in activity and increase in violence and retaliation started when you said?”

Castiel was trying to find a specific document on the screen. Ash Willow – and his parents have a thing for trees- a detective that had worked on the case for two years pointed him to the right folder. 

“There. So around seven years ago it was like the Winchesters' got possessed and bodies were dropping like flies. And we don't know much about the specific events if any, started it. And this is a group that is known to be ruthless but something set them off big time.”

“Anything to do with Sam Winchester?” Castiel turned his back on the computer and eyed the huge paper load. If people only knew that a lot of the work you had to do, being a detective involved reading. A lot of reading.

Ash shook his head. 

“He has mostly followed in his father's foot steps, although somewhat more measured if you can call it that. There were rumors about a falling out, or a conflict of sorts but that was never really confirmed. And besides,Sam's name was never mentioned in connection to that. If anything he was the textbook definition of loyalty. And since about a month back the Family has calmed down, if you can call it that. 

“What about the other son, Dean?” Castiel asked. “He was in my case-file but no pictures? Well one, but back from when he was a teenager?”

Ash handed him a thick folder with paper, photos and post its. Seeing Castiel's face he gave a small smile. 

“Don't worry, it's much more organized in the data-files. I just have my own... system.”

“Fair enough.”

“Dean Winchester is the older brother, but much more elusive. He is with the family but people really don't like to name-drop him , if you catch my drift. Several sources said he was away doing family business in the neighboring state. Some say he was even abroad.”

Leaning back in his chair, Castiel played absent-mindlessly with his pen.  
“Why would they say that? Is he not close with the others in the Family? I find it odd that the rumors say he would be away from the core group. He is the older brother, heir, after all.”

Ash picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip. “The Winchesters were looking to expand across the state-border, primarily in trafficking and drugs.” 

Nice, Castiel thought, that family sounded real peachy.

“The absent picture of Dean, though”, Ash continued, “we do have one picture of him and that one is at least 15 years old. Taken when he was in some fancy school somewhere in Switzerland.”

Castiel sighed. “So basically it's all rumors and gossip around this Dean Winchester man? Sounds more like he is a ghost.”

Smiling, Ash put down his coffee. “Don't fret , Castiel cause today is your lucky day.”

Raising an eyebrow, Castiel looked at Ash. “How so?”

Grabbing a small thin paper folder Ash tossed it on his desk. “Rumors stated buzzing that Dean had risen from the dead again and combine that with the recent... relaxed state of the Family Business, well sources were right. Dean Winchester is back in town and we managed to capture a ghost.”

Ash shrugged. “Well, the face of a ghost at least. So now we have a starting point, so let's just start digging.”

Castiel opened the folder and stared at the picture in front of him. A handsome face, with hazel green eyes and nice lips stared right back at him. “Fuck,” Castiel muttered. He had flirted with Dean “Michael” Winchester.


	16. A dark coat and darker news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the Dragon Reborn's absence trouble is brewing at the Dark Tower. Asha'man Castiel gets grave news from a Dedicated; Dean about the Seanchan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt was Heroic Fantasy. I went with High ; )
> 
> This is canon -adjacent since the Seanchan landed somewhat earlier on the coast and I'm note sure a male/male Gaidin bond would be possible. The Aes Sedai also swore fealty during Dumai's Wells and not the Seanchan invasion.
> 
> For those who like Wheel of Time enjoy, for the rest, I'm sure this will be confusing lol.

The heat made most Soldiers sweat but Castiel took no notice of that. His black coat was of fine wool, and the only ornament on him was the silver sword-pin and the gold and red Dragon-pin on his right collar, giving him the rank of Asha'man. Most people assumed that being impervious to the elements was some kind of _saidin_ trick, but it was just a trick of the mind, born out of concentration and repeated training.

 

Letting go of _saidin_ was letting go of the oily, filthy slick that covered it and made Castiel want to bend over and retch out his breakfast, but it was also letting go of pure ecstasy and light and everything good in the world. Rand al'Thor, Dragon Reborn and Breaker of the World, let the Gateway close and extended his hand. Castiel kissed it.

 

The red and gold dragon head scales on his wrists glittered in the sun and not for the first time Castiel wanted to touch them. He was pretty sure the Lord Dragon was holding the Power and would slam a Shield between him and the Source or worse, none of which Castiel had a desire to experience.

 

“My Lord Dragon,” Castiel said smoothly.

 

Rand looked at Castiel, with hard eyes, searching for something. Castiel was his most trusted man, next to Logain as much as a man like the Dragon could really trust anyone beside himself. Maybe not even himself.

 

“I am not mad yet, my Lord.”

 

Rand let out a bark of a laugh. “Light save us if you do turn mad!” Castiel just nodded and thought grimly that if the Dragon went mad, the whole world would burn.

 

“You never fail to greet me with those words, Castiel. No boot-licking from you. The Cairhienen will lavish you with sweet talk and kisses with their mouths while their hands are busy, sharpening a knife behind their backs.” He turned serious. “They are all liars and deceivers, too busy bickering between the Houses then preparing for the Last Battle.”

 

Turning and following Rand al'Thor, Castiel raised an eye-brow. “Well, my mother, always said _'_ A snake in rich garments and with honey-tongue will still not kiss sweet enough. _”_

 

Rand eyed Castiel. “I recalled your mother being a fish-monger.” Smiling, Castiel said “My mother was a woman of many talents, including gutting fish.”

 

They had reached the training grounds, an open field where the new recruits were instructed to do everything with the One Power, from splitting stone, unearthing minerals to causing the ground to erupt. Those that could not touch the Source were sent back home. There was a time when men like these were hunted like dogs and put down by the Red Ajah. Not anymore.

 

“You will train the newcomers for the time being, Castiel. I need to speak to Logain about our _issue_.“ Castiel didn't need any more clarification then that. Turning with his arm across his chest he bowed to the Lord Dragon and prayed in his mind that the Light saved them all, more out of habit then belief.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

 

From the recruits about a quarter were sent home with a purse of coin , cheese and bread. The rest had been accepted; some expressing elation, and some outright fear but the majority seemed to think the Black Tower was something you could walk away from despite being told otherwise. Succumbing to the taint, or walking away from the Tower, both equaled death. Castiel pinched his nose. The last thing he wanted to do was hang some young boy barely old enough to let go of his mother's skirts for not taking the Lord Dragon's word seriously.

 

A knock on his door interrupted his musings and Castiel looked outside his window. The light had already given way to shadows that cast the Tower in darker gloom then it's name suggested. It always amused him to call this place tower, more reminiscent of a poor village farm somewhere in the Black Hills with it's wooden buildings spread out like boils on the land then some grand gilded tower. It certainly was considered a stain on Cairhien – for now.

 

Seizing _saidin_ he used it to open the door. A man wearing the plain black coat of a Dedicated remained in the door way, letting the chill breeze inside.

 

“Light! Enter already, I'm not going to bite you. Do I look like the Dragon to you?”

 

Feeling a wave of power, of something skim over him Castiel rose from his place at the table. Grabbing _saidin_ and riding the storm made him want to scream out, whether from pleasure or pain he was not certain. Clearly hearing his annoyance, the man hurriedly closed the door behind him with the Power.

 

“Let go of the source, now! Bloody ashes, the last thing I need right now is some milksop blowing us all up because he can't recognize one weave from another.”

 

The Dedicated let go of _saidin_ , clearly startled by the outburst but quickly composed himself, staring straight ahead. Castiel looked at him. Brown short hair, hazel green eyes and a straight nose. Clearly he was not so young as to be oblivious to rank and decorum. Not that Castiel really gave any regards to that, except to the Dragon Reborn.

 

“What's your name and why do you disturb me at this late hour?”

 

The man took a step forward but stopped when Castiel shook his head slightly.

 

“ My name is Dean from Daghain, I come with news from Lord Logain, my Lord.”

 

Sending a barely dry Dedicated with news from Logain was not a good omen, especially not considering his mission.

 

“I am no Lord. On your knees”, Castiel said. Dean dropped to his knees on the wooden floor and Castiel approached him.

 

Seizing _saidin_ Castiel used all five Powers to make a ward, shielding them for prying ears and tied the intricate weave off. “Do you swear by the Light, that you serve our Lord Dragon?”

 

Eyes widening Dean looked at the Asha'man. This was not an oath to be taken lightly and Dean knew this. With Mazrim Taim growing more unstable everyday Castiel could not afford any uncertainty about where Dean's loyalties lied but he would not use any of Taim's preferred methods. Grabbing Dean by the chin, he tilted his head up, demanding eye-contact.

“I asked you, do you swear to follow our Lord Dragon Reborn, Savior of the World?”

 

Dean probably cursed himself and his mother for knocking on Castiel's door but the increasing division had to be dealt with and this was one way until the Bloody Dragon took this threat seriously.

 

“By the Light and my hope of salvation and rebirth, I swear to serve the Lord Dragon Reborn or may my soul burn to ash.”

 

Wit the oath done, Castiel motioned Dean to rise. “What news do you have from Logain that are so pressing that you have to come in the dead of night? And do realize that when you serve the Dragon, you do serve me as well.”

 

Dean licked his lips, taking a few calming breaths.

 

“My Lo – Castiel, Lord Logain said it was of utmost importance that you know the Sachen have crossed the Sea. They have landed at the coast near Falme.”

 

Dread but also determination settled in Castiel's stomach. The Seanchan, Light! Castiel didn't know if they were worse or the witches they had on leashes. He had seen the destruction they wreaked on Tanchico three years prior, but the Aes Sedai only dismissed them as idle rumors from the Dragon, devised to create chaos and discord. Never trust a man that can channel. Castiel smiled wryly at that.

 

“Hold the Power, Dean as much as you can muster.”

 

A sense of awe came over Castiel as he sensed the whispers of the Power around them. “Are you strong enough to open a Gateway?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yes, while I was in Daghain. That's how it manifested. Well, besides the sickness and vomiting.” He shrugged. “I considered turning myself over to the Red, but then I heard of the Lord Dragon's proclamation and I thought that this was a better option.”

 

“A better option for you, others would call it madness.”

 

Dean smiled. “Doesn't madness and death wait for all men like us?”

 

Castiel could only nod in agreement to that. For some madness came suddenly, others it crept upon, but that it would do so, there was no question about it, as surely as the sun rose every morning. Pray that the world survived them and the Dark One.

 

“I need to write some letters. Are you able to open and hold several Gateways in a row?”

 

He could see the unwritten question on Dean's face but choose to ignore it. He may have sworn fealty to the Dragon but that didn't mean that he could be trusted with everything. Some things were for him and Rand's eyes only. Rubbing his hand over his eyes Castiel sighed.

 

“You do realize that you are only to come to me, Logain and the Lord Dragon with news like this from now on, Dean?”

 

“Yes, Castiel. I may be from a small village but I ain't stupid.”

 

Castiel laughed at the sudden spark manifesting in the man.

 

“I'm glad. I never was one for agreeing with stupid. Be back in an hour. The letters will be done by then. By the way, do you possess any Talent I should know about?”

 

Dean shook his head. “The talent for being a thorn in her side, my mother said, but I don't think you were referring to that.” Realization he may have spoken out of order he added. “My apologizes, Castiel, Lord.”

 

Castiel waved a dismissive hand. “At ease Dean. I will not strike you down. Why would I? You are mine now.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

Dean came from behind and snaked an arm around Castiel's shirt, kissing his neck. The black coats was hanging on the wall next to their bed.

 

“Dean, now is really not a good time. I need to figure out what to do with this _gift_ our Dragon has so graciously decided to give us.”

 

The gift he was speaking of was over fifty formerly collared women. Most of them Aes Sedai, and although the large part of them had been in the hands of the Seanchan for a short period of time, that had been enough. They refused to go back to the White Tower, stubbornly claiming that they belonged to the Dragon now with a fervor that unnerved him.

 

“They have sworn the oath, they are loyal to the Dragon. Aren't you the one that say the Wheel weaves as it will?”

 

Castiel turned his neck to the side, letting Dean's hands explore his chest, traveling further down.

 

“I never say such things. And being close to the Dragon probably made them utter those words anyway. The Wheel may control us, but it binds the Dragon the hardest.”

 

“Just let them be bonded to Asha'man. Done deal and we can carry on to more important matters.”

 

Dean walked around Castiel and sat down in his lap, uttering a surprised sound as he felt Castiel's hard erection. Castiel moaned and felt goose bumps on his flesh. Suddenly his whole body convulsed in a spasm, as pleasure exploded inside him just to die out as suddenly as it came.

 

“Light, Dean! Stop playing with the Power,” Castiel breathed out, sweat coating his entire body.

 

Speaking of binding Cas - “When are you going to bind me to you?”

 

Still trying to clam his erratic heart beat, Castiel sighed.

 

“Forgive me if I am not eager to sign your death, Dean. When, not if I die, I'd like to know at least the better half of me survived and isn't compelled to go out seeking death like a sprog swimming with the cat-nippers.”

 

“Am I supposed to understand the weird sayings of your mother?”

 

Groaning as Dean's hands traveled underneath his tunic and pinched one nipple Castiel whispered. “ I think this is an unfair distraction. I don't want you to end up dead, Dean.”

 

Dean kissed Castiel's mouth. “I won't as long as I have you.” Grinning Dean continued, “I for one think this is a very good distraction.”

 

Grabbing Dean's hair and arching his head back, Castiel kissed him hard. “Enough talk about collared Aes Sedai, mothers and death. Let's talk about what I want to do with you.”

 

They embraced in bed, tunics, breeches and boots tossed carelessly on the wooden floor. Soon the only thing Castiel had in his mind was Dean's body against his, Dean's hands roaming over his chest and the taste of Dean on his lips.

 

 


	17. Just a little nudge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets to experience Castiel's wings.
> 
> ________________________  
> Today's prompt was Wing. Enjoy!   
> No warnings in this chapter.

When Dean had started asking if there wasn't a spell Castiel could use, some Enochian magic so Dean could see his wings, Castiel had happily agreed but it was the second request that had him raising his eyebrows in surprise. For weeks on end Dean had been asking, threatening and cajoling until Castiel had finally relented. Considering that Castiel was a divine light of celestial intent you would assume he had patience in the thousand folds but Dean had a way of slipping through his defenses. 

Castiel looked at Dean, skepticism written all over his face. Removing his trench coat and pulling up the sleeves of his shirt, Castiel toyed with the handle of the angel blade as he looked out at the ocean. 

They had found a wide enough space on some rocks jutting out into the sea, and long enough so you had ample time to accelerate. Not that that was strictly necessary but Castiel thought it was best for Dean's piece of mind. This was not Castiel's idea after all.

Kissing Dean on the cheek, he asked again. “You sure about the second part, Dean?” The hunter smiled but it was not as confident as before.

“How bad can it be, Cas?” The breeze made his hair stand out in all directions and brought with it the smell of salt. 

Shrugging, Castiel grabbed Dean's arm. “It's not bad Dean. It really is quite amazing, I'm just surprised that you really insisted. Since your dislike of heights and all.” Castiel was giving him an out, but knowing Dean that would not happen.

“It's not a dislike... I just avoid heights unless absolutely necessary. And come on, I've killed vamps, werewolves and warts, this can't be half as bad as that.”

Castiel dragged the angel blade swiftly across Dean's underarm. A small rivulet of blood appeared. Wrapping his hand around Dean's underarm Castiel smiled. “Ready?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, Cas. I'm ready.” 

Gripping Dean's arm tight, just for good measure Castiel whispered. “Od-zam-ran upa-ah.” As soon as the last word fell from his lips he felt Dean pull away with a start.

“Holy fuck!” Dean uttered in surprise and then he was silent, taking in the sight before him.

Castiel studied Dean's face carefully but all he could see was surprise, awe and reverence there. “Are you still sure about the second part, Dean?” Castiel's asked, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

“Cas – Your wings, they are...” Dean started before falling quiet again.

Castiel's wings were spread wide and large, blocking everything in Dean's sight and almost wrapping Dean in a feathery hug. The sturdy golden scapular wings on the top giving way to the more soft cream-colored primary and secondary feathers seemed to be aglow as the sun's light filtered through them.

“Magnificent, splendid? I could also agree with the word gorgeous or resplendent.” Cas prodded but Dean reached out a tentative hand and touched a secondary feather still silent. After a few moments of not uttering a word, with the wind howling and the ocean waves crashing against the rocky hillside Dean spoke.

“Huge...” Gently stroking Castiel's feathers, a smile covered Dean's face.

“Well, they certainly are huge even though that would not be the first thing that comes to mind as descriptive terms go.”

Dean continued to stroke Castiel's feathers but suddenly stopped, a questioning look on his face.

“Is this weird Cas? I'm not freaking you out or something?”

Castiel laughed softly. “It is not weird, Dean. It feels nice. Some of the other angels have more colorful wings but -”

“Cas, they are beautiful, you are beautiful.” Dean's hand still explored his feathers, stroking and petting. “Your wings feel strong, like you could just slap someone with them.”

“I probably could, but cleaning the feathers would take forever. Are you ready for the second part, Dean? We have time for you to worship my wings later”, Castiel arched an eyebrow “but the winds are picking up speed and I don't want the weather to get worse.”

Dean leaned in and kissed Castiel. “I am ready.”

“Upa-ah,” Castiel spoke and touched Dean lightly on the forehead. 

Dean fell backwards with a start as a weight dragged him down. 

“Whoa, these are way heavier then I thought.” Not being used to the weight and new balance center required of his body to hold him steady with two huge black wings on his back, Dean fell backwards.

Castiel's blue eyes shone with mirth. “It's a nice color on you, Dean.” 

The wings were dark, feathers changing slowly from charcoal to obsidian, the sunlight making them shine when hit just so. Castiel grabbed Dean by the arm and pulled him up. 

“Back in black, baby.”

“Now, try to move them. It should come instinctively, like for all fledglings. This is magic after all but the process should be the same.”

Dean's wings were spread wide, almost catching the wind. There was a moment of panic on his face, before he realized Castiel was still holding on. 

“We have a couple of hours before the spell wears off Dean. So are you ready to take them for a test-drive as you say?”

Determination was on his face, but Castiel didn't miss that look of hesitation that swiftly spread across his face.

“I'm ready.”

“You really don't need to. Just to have wings is an experience most humans will never have Dean. Pull your wings tighter towards your body. You don't want to catch the wind right now. It's easier when you are right at the edge.”

Letting go of Castiel, Dean pulled the black wings around him, lessening the impacts off the wind currents on his body. Walking behind the angel, gait unsteady until they were right at the edge of the cliffs, Dean peered down. They were on a high altitude but Dean could still make out the small patch of sand pretending to be beach. Everything else was deep blue waters and ocean waves, sea gulls and salty breezes. 

“I know I don't need to, Cas but as you said, this isn't something that most people get to experience. I want to get at least a taste of your world.”

Castiel grabbed Dean's hand, his other hand stroking Dean's cheek gently. “I love you, Dean. Do you trust me?”

“Love you too, Cas and of course I trust you! So you said something about instinct and fledglings, just flap them and go right? Or how do baby angels go about this flying-business?” Dean flashed his teeth. 

Castiel inched himself closer to Dean. His mouth was close to Dean's ear. “They just need a little nudge”, he whispered and pushed Dean of the cliff.


	18. Out for a ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has discovered he really likes rides since becoming a human. He and Dean decides to have a small getaway and enjoy all that a theme-park can provide.
> 
> Tag: Public blowjob

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's word was Pirate. This idea for fic was triggered by a prompt in a facebook-group.
> 
> Tag: Public blowjob

Since letting go of the last of his Grace, Castiel had experienced a whole array of things for the first time with depth that only a human being could fully comprehend. He embraced everything with an open mind and a child-like wonder, even mundane things that Dean had never really paid much attention to: how a ray of sunlight warmed your skin, the texture of an old worn wooden table, wrinkled skin when exiting a bath. All those things that now Dean also rediscovered through Castiel.

Once of the delights that Castiel had discovered he really enjoyed since becoming human were attractions of any kind, be it a slow boat ride on calm waters or a high speed roller coaster with sharp turns and loops. His favorite one was the Pirates of the Caribbean and for the nth time that day they were in line for the attraction. 

“Last time Cas, then we really need to head back to the hotel.” Looking at Castiel, his hair more disheveled then usual due to all rides they had been on and blue intense eyes, laugh lines around them Dean could feel a stir of desire. “Besides, I'm hungry and it's not for food.”

Kissing him on the cheek with a big smile Castiel nodded. “It's a deal.” Slowly but surely the line inched it's way forward until it was their turn to sit down in the boats. They took a seat in the back, to at least have some privacy and off the ride went. You could barely hear the water over the odd echoing of the man-made cave and people murmuring excitedly and in some parts the darkness of the tunnels were illuminated by flashing lights as they slowly floated by.

Just after they had passed the shipwreck on the right and their ride was slowly turning left heading into to a dark cave the ride stopped. Not with a grinding halt, but slowly and gently. Everything went dark. 

“I don't remember this happening before.” Castiel stated calmly. Dean rolled his eyes. Just typical. All he wanted was to get home and bone Cas and some fake pirate ride was cock-blocking him. After waiting 15 minutes, no sign whatsoever of the ride starting again Dean couldn't ignore his cock anymore. He leaned in closer to Castiel and grabbed his hand, placing it over his crotch and the erection straining in his pants.  
Castiel squeezed his hard cock and whispered in his ear.

“Really, Dean? Here on a Pirate-ride?”

Dean turned his head, nipping Castiel on the neck, and then murmured. “I've been waiting to get into your pants all day. “

He batted Castiel's hand away, pulling down his zipper and then grabbed Castiel by the hair, slowly guiding him down. Castiel clearly got the intention and after a slight hesitation he went down on Dean, finding his cock rock-hard and already leaking pre-come. 

Not wasting time, Castiel started sucking, one hand grabbing the base of Dean's cock as he wrapped his mouth around Dean's head. Encouraged by Dean's grip in his hair, Castiel swirled his tongue in Dean's slit and moaned softly at the taste, the feeling of exhilaration going through him at doing something forbidden. To his surprise Castiel realized he was enjoying this, not only the act of pleasuring Dean but having the added thrill of being caught, discovered. Fingers gripping more tightly in his hair, Castiel realized that Dean was already close. His thighs were trembling softly and although he was surprisingly quiet, Castiel could hear that Dean's breathing had increased in speed. 

A shudder was all the warning Castiel had as Dean came inside his mouth, bitter, salty and all Dean. Castiel continued to suck Dean until he felt him go limp and relax, finally releasing his hard grip on Castiel's hair. Only a few times had Castiel actually swallowed Dean's come and he considered if he should spit it out in the water or not. Dean was already zipping up his pants.

\- - - - - - -  
Meanwhile in the control both the coordinator of the ride, a young man named Steve is looking at the screen for the infra-red cameras and slowly panicking. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, he muttered, this is just what he needed. 

Another couple of horny idiots ruled by hormones, pleasure, a stupid bet or whatever were going to ruin everything. A load of that in the water counted as a bio hazard and that meant epic disaster. The ride would have to be cleaned along with the ride-path, all water, he didn't want to think about how many gallons, had to be drained and replaced. 

Tourists would be pissed off, the ghost of Walt Disney would be pissed off and the company would be pissed off, thousands of dollars literally going down the drain. And what about him, he had only been working there for five weeks, he would surely be fired. Fuck!

Reacting without thought he grabbed the microphone, eyes locked on the guys in the back. 

“Spitting is for quitters.” Dropping the microphone, Steve rubbed his hands over his face. He was so fired.

\- - - - - - - 

The ride back to the hotel was fairly uneventful. Castiel glanced at Dean now and then, but he was keeping his eyes on the road. Castiel's experience as a human was a mere blip compared to the countless thousands of years he had been a celestial being, but he could with fair certainty conclude that Dean was not upset. He thought so at least.

“Dean...? Are you alright? I didn't know there were cameras -” A smile curved at Dean's mouth and he grinned as he turned towards Castiel.

“Am I alright? Cas, I'm more then alright. I got a good blowjob, a nice pirate-ride and you were hot as fuck. I feel awesome!” Looking back at the road, he grabbed Castiel's hand. Castiel's squeezed his hand and they rode in content silence the rest of the way.


	19. Life as you knew it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Smith gets a new neighbor in Castiel but is surprised when their lives cross in another way as well.
> 
> Today's prompt was "It's a terrible life", the season 4 episode. I had no idea what to do with this one. Feeling uninspired this turned out alright. Writing is a chore... 
> 
> No warnings in this one.
> 
> Hope you enjoy at least.  
> ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Not even a month had the man, Castille, lived in the house next to Dean Smith's, and already his lawn looked like it was a piece of Eden itself. Dean hated Eden. Some parts of the garden were kept meticulous, the grass cut green and short, while other areas where overflowing with an array of wild flowers, herbs and grass, from lavender and meadow-sweet to marigold and lemon balm. It looked very orderly and right out from a spread of _Gardener's Delight_ and totally in breach of protocol.

“I bet Castille even has his own freaking bee-colony.” Dean grumbled. Well, too bad for this guy that Dean had recently been appointed head of the Home-owners association, a job he took seriously. All those flowers were definitely a breach of section 4. paragraph b, and the color of the fence was bone-white and not off-white and don't even get Dean started on the recycling bin being visible. Dean really didn't want to be that guy, but he had to lead by example. He had been patient enough.

It was a quiet Saturday so Dean would just casually stroll over and greet his semi-new neighbor. They had exchanged pleasantries, random nonsense-talk but it had hardly been a proper welcoming. Defrosting some homemade cinnamon rolls, Dean wrapped them up in wax paper and walked over to the neighboring house.

A wall of different scents assaulted Dean's nose, some sweet and pleasant – making you want to inhale more or bottle it up to take home, some he would more name smells leaving a sharp and pungent odor in the air as he walked by. Finally at the door, Dean knocked twice and waited. Almost immediately the door opened, and Castille was there, greeting him in a bathrobe and black hair all disheveled. Dean arched his eyebrow slightly, it was eleven in the morning. Almost impossibly blue eyes looked back at him and Dean checked swiftly for a sign of contact lenses, but there were none. 

“Hello. I'm Dean Smith, your new neighbor. Just thought I'd stop by and say welcome to the neighborhood.” He thrust his wrapped cinnamon buns at the man. 

“Hi, Castiel here, but call me Cas. Mm, I've seen you lurking around. Glad you finally stopped by.”

Dean stood up a bit more straight. Lurking? He was definitely not lurking, but how could he double-check the paint if he wasn't up close and personal?

“Yeah, sorry about that. I'm head of the HOA.”

Cas blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. He put the buns down save one. Unwrapping it, he took a huge bite and chewed. Eyes almost rolling back in pleasure, he swallowed and grinned.

“Head of HOA sure can bake, never tasted a better bribe in my life. These were really good. You let them rise twice?”

Dean nodded and decided to ignore the insult. It was is not a bribe. “Yeah, it gives them more texture. Real butter is also key. Okay... So those plants outside -?”

Castiel took another bite and his azure eyes narrowed as he shook his head. “Not touching those Dean,“ Cas interrupted. “Anyway I have a big meeting to prepare for so I must really get going. Oh... You want some honey to go? I make it myself.”

Of course the guy made his own freaking honey. Shaking his head no Dean said good bye to his neighbor and walked home. He really hoped he would not cause any trouble.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Dean let the paper drop down on his desk and rubbed his temples. It had been a long day with meetings, PMO- guidance, and reviews leading up to the second check-point that was coming up and he barely even understood what this paper meant. Taking a sip of his already lukewarm ginseng tea, Dean sighed and picked the paper up again, trying to concentrate. Zachariah who usually never visited had suddenly decided that it was a great idea to hire a interpersonal coordinator, whatever the hell that meant. Squinting at a name scribbled down next to the coordinator title, made his suspicions rise. It looked like Castel.

Five hard knocks on his door took him back to the present moment and the meeting with this coordinator. 

“Come in, please.” 

The door opened and if it wasn't his bun-eating, bee-keeping oddball of a neighbor Castiel that entered. Gone was the plushy bathrobe, instead he was wearing dark jeans, what looked like a Zeppelin T-shirt and a black jacket. His blue eyes were still as note-worthy as Dean remembered them.

“You? You are the interpersonal coordinator?”

Closing the door behind him Castiel smiled, his amusement evident in the crow lines around his eyes. He extended his hand. “So nice to meet you Mr Dean Smith. Again.”

Dean got up and shook his hand and made a motion for Castiel to sit down in the leather chair opposite the desk.

“Yes. I must say I was surprised that we even needed a coordinator of this kind, or that it was you. I must also confess, that I don't quit realize what it is you do, sir?”

Castiel crossed his right leg over his left, and leaned back in the chair, totally at ease. 

“Call me Cas. You could say my job is to open up people to the possibility that networking, group dynamic and corporate climate and profit can all be greatly increased if one is just allowed to be vulnerable and open at the work place.”

Dean made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I get this is more of a get-to-know-you-meeting then an actual interview?”

Castiel licked his lips and the burst out laughing. “You got that right. Zachariah already hired me, but don't worry, on paper you are my boss... Sir.”

Zachariah was going to be the death of him. Dean really didn't have time for Castiel and whatever this mambo-jumbo thing was, that he did.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Is this open and vulnerable enough for you, Dean?”, Castiel whispered as he grabbed Dean's hair forcefully, exposing his throat.

Dean moaned when Cas dragged his teeth nipping and biting across his throat upwards. Finding Dean's open mouth, willing and waiting Castiel thrust his tongue inside as his knee went up in between Dean's legs, pressing into his crotch. 

Moaning and trying to tilt his head to the side, Dean wrenched free, his lips swollen from Castiel's demanding kisses. His office was high up and usually not frequented by that many visitors but someone _could_ come and despite the huge green plants obscuring some of the view, the floor to ceiling windows did not leave much to the imagination. Dean was pretty certain this was an all out buffet of the more naked kind.

“What if someone shows up... Sir?” Dean offered up feebly but the notion made his cock harder.

Letting go of Dean's hair, Castiel stroke a gentle hand on his cheek and Dean closed his eyes, relishing in the sudden contrast going from forceful to kind. 

“I say, let them come,” Castiel mumbled. Suddenly Dean's shirt was ripped open, buttons flying everywhere and then eager hands were on him. Eyes flying open, Dean's eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.

“Fuck... that was one of my favorite shirts.” 

Castiel was on him in a heartbeat, pressing himself impossibly closer to Dean, a strong arm going over his throat with enough force to make the message loud and clear. Stern blue eyes peered into his own, and it was like watching a storm coming full-force at you, knowing that you had no option but to surrender and let it take you, and that fighting would cause more harm, not less. Lowering his eyes, Dean let out a strangled “I'm sorry.”

Castiel's voice was cold. “You will be. Now turn around.” 

>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Are you sure about leaving me, Cas?” Dean asked, taking a huge bite of the whole-wheat toast, the butter melted together with the honey making it taste divine.

Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean's tone.

“It's not like I'm leaving _you_ , Dean. I've been there for eighteen months, and I think my job is done. The different strategies are already in place, people know how to act and how to express themselves. I've given them all the tools and know-how, the rest is up to them. Up to you.” 

Looking at Dean, taking another bite of the toast he added, “But I think my greatest success is convincing you to actually eat bread. Now if I can only wean you off that awful whole-wheat crap; you are literally killing the taste of my amazing honey with that abomination cardboard-disguised-as-bread.”

Dean glared at him and took another bite. “I am not worried. I will just miss having you around you know... at work.”

“Well, you can just say you will miss me fucking you senseless in the office. Use your words, Dean.”

“Yeah, that too”, Dean laughed and licked some butter of his fingers. “But you always get prissy when I use my words.”

“I don't recall disobedience and acting like a brat being called using your words.” Castiel rose from the breakfast table and pressed two fingers on Dean's forehead. “If only I could shove some sense into you.” Smirking he added, “If sense won't work I can always shove something else inside you.”

Dean just grinned. “You know your flowers are still in violation, Cas.”

Castiel turned to leave. “I'm going to grab a shower. You be done and in that shower with me in 10 minutes, or you will relearn the term violation.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dean nodded, grinning as he took another bite of his toast.


	20. Good cop, bad angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester is working as an Enforcer, Hunter, catching the monster-crap that roams free in a world were angels rule. Doing his best to avoid any angels, one day Dean gets a letter with his name on it. That's when all trouble start.
> 
> Today's prompt was mashup so I used the words Wings and Cop.
> 
> NO warnings in this one. This was inspired by the Guild Hunter books (Nalini Singh)
> 
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When the angels first appeared most humans were inclined to the feeling of disbelief. It was unheard of that so many people across continents could have the exact same symptoms and share the same hallucinations but pretty soon humans realized it was not a mass psychosis. The angels were nothing like the images conjured from believers minds; holy messengers and warriors from God come down to bestow grace, and light and wisdom to the populace. More and more humans had quickly realized that angels were petty, vicious creatures sprung from nightmares demanding worship and loyalty and that God was dead. Over a century had passed and the humans had gotten the message loud and clear about who ruled the world.

Dean Winchester ignored the rain as he trudged along, mud clinging to his newly polished boots as he took a short-cut over a patch of grass. He really didn't give a rat's ass about angels as long as they stayed far away from him. While his employer technically was an angel, the Archangel of York, since all Hunters were on contract to an angel or archangel, Dean had never seen the Archangel nor did he desire to do so. He killed what needed to be killed, collected what had escaped and got food and money in return. It was a simple business transaction, that was all.

He was on the Hunter Enforcement Task Team, an Enforcer was his true title but they were known all over the city and throughout the country as Hunters. Simply put it was his job to clean up the mess the angels had created. Not only had the angels decided that planet Earth was a good spot to terrorize, they had brought nasty company with them. 

This week had been hellish. Monsters acting up more then normal and displaying strange behaviors was in itself unusual. That coupled with the fact that seven humans had been murdered and two of them had actually been angels, had really raised eyebrows at Hunter HQ. Of course that had been swiftly swept under the rug. 

If the people of York ever found out that angels were missing, wide-spread panic would erupt.  
It was the Archangel's task to keep angels in line and keep people in their city safe from their violent tendencies, as it was the Hunters duty to clean up the shit the monsters and freaks caused. Usually that was a quiet mission even though every man, women and child knew what a Hunter was and what they did. Hunter and archangel rarely if ever crossed paths besides the occasional order, which was usually transmitted telepathically or through angels. Good luck with that, Dean thought smugly. 

The main building complex for the Hunters was in the middle of downtown York, surrounded by tall apartments and hotels, convenience stores and parks. Nothing particular denoted this building from any other structure except for the Force emblem, a silver shield with a pair of angel wings embossed on the large front doors. Dean wore a smaller emblem, pinned to his chest when he was on duty. He never liked the implications of that emblem, but it worked when he was out doing his job. People talked and those that didn't were brought in for further questioning. 

Entering, Dean took the elevator up to his floor, fully prepared to write a boring report about his recent capture of two demons that had run amok from their owner. Stepping out from the elevator, a hand tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, Dean looked at his supervisor in surprise.

“Benny, hey. I was just about to write down the-” 

Grabbing Dean by the elbow Benny almost but dragged him back to his office, closing the door shut behind them. His beard looked scruffier then normal and sitting down with a heavy thud he motioned for Dean to do the same, as he rubbed his hands over his face and let out a sigh.

Confused by Benny's behavior, that was not in any way normal for the usually friendly commander, Dean sat up more straight. 

“What the fuck have you done Dean? And when on God's earth where you going to mention something?”

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, his green eyes questioning the tone of Benny, Dean answered tentatively. “Those humans that were murdered, I also found out that two angels -”

“Dead, yeah, they were dead, Dean. I know that and as fucked up as that is, and we will get to the bottom of it, I have more pressing concerns right now and they regard you.”

Dean really didn't like it when Benny talked in riddles and what could be more pressing then dead angels. Either he was trying to spare Dean some harsh news or he was building up the courage to say something really crappy.

Instead Benny dropped an envelope in his knees, a cream-colored audacity of a thing with the thickness of a book more then something to protect a letter with. Turning it around, he saw his name spelled out in black elegant font and the stamp of angel wings. 

His heart started pounding faster, and he jammed a thumb in the envelope and ripped harshly. Unfolding the letter, he quickly eyed through it until he came to the bottom of the page, to the name of the sender. He stared at the same elegant lettering as on the envelope; with warm greetings from Castiel, Archangel of York. Dean dropped the letter, rising quickly from his chair and left the room.

Benny followed after him almost in a panic and yanked him back by the elbow. 

“Fuck Dean, where do you think you are going?”

Dean turned and glared at him. “Oh I don't know Benny, how about as fucking far away from here as possible? I'm even thinking about a trip abroad.” He pulled his arm free from Benny's grip and let out a harsh breath.

“Jesus, I have no desire whatsoever to meet Castiel. That fucker is crazy, more so then the other Archangels and you know what their reputation is like.” Lowering his voice he spoke in whispers. “Do you think this is connected to the dead angels?” Dean almost moaned and turned around. “Of course it is.”

Benny's hand on his arm was kind, reassuring. “We have your back Dean, you are our best Hunter and we will not abandon you. But you need to go.” He let go of Dean and pulled out the letter.

With a curse under his breath Dean took the paper and stormed out.

********  
Castiel, Archangel of York casually sipped his water as he stared at the young angel before him. His blue eyes spoke of coldness and a harshness that came from many thousands of years of existence.

“So, you delivered the message? What was his reaction, Anael?” Her white wings, with streaks of magenta flared. 

“His reaction was unusual, mostly a display of anger and defiance but he will be here, Sir. They always come. How can he refuse you?” Realizing what she was doing with her wings, she snapped them shut.

Castiel noticed her enthusiasm. Anael was still very young but she was eager to do good and had served him well so far. She had been an unconventional choice, but Castiel never did care much for that sort of thing. When you had lived as long as he had, then only thing that mattered was want, and what he wanted he always achieved, one way or another.

He squashed down the flash of annoyance at the memory of his failure to mind-call Dean. This Hunter was supposedly the best one, and only the best was good enough for Castiel. Waving Anael away, Castiel smiled. They never refused him and neither would Dean Winchester.


	21. Emergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel have been friends since they were small children. One summer night an event will forever change the course of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Described event of drowning
> 
> Today's prompt was Mutant/X-men. I was going to write some more, but the drabble is already over. (You missed some smut ; ))  
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Castiel had always been there, like a welcoming presence in Dean's life since he could remember. They had lived in neighboring houses in the middle of nowhere, a road to somewhere connecting them to some sort of civilization. They had instantly bonded, like only children could. Most of their days had been spent outside, when school was of no hindrance. 

The surrounding area was mostly open meadow, willowy grass reaching to the knees but sparse patches of trees with their green canopy, dotted the area providing ample space to hide and play. At the most northern end of what they called home, was the constellation of stones – a favorite spot for jumping and climbing – just before the grass gave way to a small lake that was their not so secret hide-away. To Castiel and Dean it seemed the world was an outside thing- of no importance to their own, created of whispers, play and secret games.

Waving his hand, Dean beckoned Castiel to come join him. “Come on Cas, the water is warm. I swear! You just have to swim some.” The July wind had brought with is some increased heat but dipping his toes in the water Castiel seriously doubted that, shaking his head vigorously, his black hair a mess around his head. Treading water in the middle of the lake Dean was urging him on, and with a roll of his eyes Castiel complied. Tossing his T-shirt and blue shorts aside in the grass he decided to simply wade out.

The cold water hit him mercilessly, causing goose-bumps to erupt all over his naked flesh but Castiel figured the strain of swimming would heat up muscles that protested his current endeavor. With a stubborn mind Castiel ignored all his body's ways of saying this was a bad idea and swam out, hands and feet kicking. He could see Dean's brown hair plastered over his eyes – a green shade closer to dark moss then any other color – appearing darker when wet and still that hand beckoning him on enthusiastically. Smiling Castiel continued swimming towards Dean. 

About halfway there, feet nowhere near being able to reach the murky bottom of the lake the cold gripped Castiel like a vice. Both his calves-muscles cramped painfully, and he felt himself sink down underneath the water. Powerful kicks in his mind translated as feeble attempts barely disturbing the water around him, let alone making a difference in his tries to reach the surface. The small amount of air he had in his lungs was quickly expelled in a forceful exhale, small bubbles appearing in front of him. Trying to hold his breath, Castiel used his arms to swim up but another painful throb in his calf-muscles made him scream out in agony and more water flooded his mouth. Where before there was water, easy to cut through, trying to swim now was like wandering through molasses and his efforts all seemed feeble. _Dean!_ His body commanded him to inhale air not knowing that the very reflex that sustained him above water was going to kill him now. _God, I'm drowning_. No matter how he kicked up, it seemed the opposite effect was the outcome. Pain burned in Castiel's legs but was quickly dwarfed by the agony settling in his lungs. Panic set it.

A hand cut through the water like a spear as Dean tried desperately to grab Castiel's hand, wrist, arm – just about anything, but slippery skin escaped his grasp time and time again. Castiel was afraid and confused – an echo matched in the frantic beating of Dean's heart –and not realizing what Dean was trying to do Castiel fought him, trying to escape. Castiel needed to be out of the water! Feeling his options slip by him, muscles already tired from the cold, fear and holding his breath, Dean desperately reached for something. There in the center of a tumbling vortex of emotions and thoughts, Dean realized that all he needed and wanted was for Castiel to be OK, to get out. Castiel needed to get out of the water. Get out!

The sudden _pushing_ wrenched Castiel from Dean's side. He dove underneath the water again even though he was dead-tired, his eyes frantically looking for any sign of his friend. The struggle between them had kicked up a galaxy of dirt and grime, clouding his vision and making a search for Castiel almost impossible. When his lungs begged for mercy Dean broke the surface of the water and just as he was to dive again he saw a shape on the little stretch of sand where they had tossed their clothes forever ago. 

Legs almost numb with pain Dean swam anyway, cold and shivering until he got enough traction on the bottom to stumble up on the beach. Falling down next to Castiel's side Dean shook him again and again, his friend's name a horror on his lips. He refused to take notice of how cold Castiel felt, how his blue lips almost matched the hue of his eyes that once sparked with life and mischief. Shaking him one last time, Dean bent over Castiel, his mouth over his friend's. Pushing air into Castiel's lungs, not really knowing if this was the correct way to do it, Dean repeated the motion until he started swaying himself from pure exhaustion. 

Suddenly Castiel sprang to life, coughing up amounts of lake-water Dean didn't think it was possible to consume. His arms snaked underneath Castiel, trying to hold him upright, and close. Even though Castiel was cold and Dean shivered violently he nourished a futile hope that he had some remnant of heat left that he could transfer to Castiel. Looking dazed and confused Castiel opened his eyes at least and croaked out a questioning _Dean_. Trying to say something Dean opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a wail of relief and a rush of tears that blinded him.

They didn't speak of the incident at the lake for years.

Δ

The last weekend before Castiel and Dean were to start high-school they spend at Castiel's house, as always. They still wandered over to the Constellation sometimes, touched the warm stones soaking up the heat from the sun, although the rocks didn't offer as much challenge in regards to climbing anymore. The thickets of trees popping up like towers here and there on the grassy fields were not much to hide under, but still it was home. The place where both Dean and Castiel had spent almost 13 years of their lives. 

Not that they had to be at Castiel's house but traditions were meant to be honored. Castiel also knew of the other reason Dean preferred this setting over the one of his own home. Thumbs and fingers flying over the controls, they were playing the latest installment of a hack and slash game. Usually Castiel insisted on something more challenging but the look on Dean's face was enough clue for Castiel to drop his demand.

They sat on the floor, knees touching and backs resting on the couch, comfortable and somewhat at peace. A bowl of popcorn lay forgotten nearby, now cold and chewy. 

“Was it bad?” Castiel asked casually, keeping his eye on the power meter on the screen. His magician was soon ready to buff up Dean's warrior again as he plowed through hordes of evil fantasy-creatures.

Dean shrugged, his eyes flickering to Castiel and then he shifted minutely, inching himself closer to his friend. Where Dean's hair was brown and in place, Castiel's hair was still after all the years Dean had known him disheveled, as wild and free as his spirit.

“You know how they are. I might have said some harsh words but this shit is getting tiresome, Cas. It's the same story over and over again. Mom wants me to be careful, with how things are developing but Dad he – ”

“He wants you to just forget about it, pretend that it never happened?” Castiel dropped the gaming control on the floor and looked at Dean. “No offense Dean, but your dad is a dick.”

Dean laughed at Castiel's use of language; he rarely used such vulgar words so this was a true testament to how upset he was. Noticing Castiel's insistent stare Dean turned and looked at his friend. He couldn't help but smile. Castiel's eyes held nothing but love and acceptance that seemed to be magnified in that azure blue stare of his.

“Big words you use, Cas,” he teased but silently Dean was grateful. Castiel dropped his gaze and started fiddling with his hoodie, fingers plucking some imaginary dust speck. After a few moments he exhaled with a heavy sigh. 

Dean put a hand on Castiel's knee, just to reassure him but somehow his hand lingered there, resting heavy like a promise worth keeping. Castiel felt that weight on his knee like a flash of intense warmth, flickering through his body but refusing to dissipate; slow embers of heat glowing that he was sure meandered up towards his cheeks. Castiel was surprised at the intensity of this seemingly innocent touch, of what that implied regarding his feelings for Dean. He didn't make a motion to move though, afraid to lose this precarious moment of something.

“That day you ...” he started, still looking down. Dean didn't need any clarification on what day Castiel was talking about. “I never said thank you properly, so thank you, Dean. For saving my life.” His voice was a whisper, burdened with the memory of not only the event itself but what came after. “To me your powers will always be something I'm grateful for. They are you.” Looking up he smiled. “I'm glad you are you.”

Dean had all but forgotten about school starting tomorrow, about his ass of a dad always managing to use his words to make Dean feel small, insignificant, not worthy or worse; when he wielded those words as a cruel instrument, playing to Dean's deepest fears of being a horror, a mistake, something you'd wish life itself would end. The same letters of the alphabet wrought into different words, properly placed could also carry with them a meaning of hope, acceptance and peace. Castiel brought him all that and love.

Not really thinking, but acting from a place of emotion, instinct, Dean inched himself closer to Castiel. Their bodies were as close as they could be, but there was this chasm between them that Dean wanted to bridge. His hand on Castiel's knee still lingering, he opened his mouth and pressed a swift kiss to Castiel's lips.

An audible exhale of air was all that betrayed Castiel's emotions and Dean backed away. He had a torrent of emotions going through him. Hope for more, a sense of pride that he had dared, the sickening fear of rejection, irrational disgust for thinking Castiel would accept someone like him and through it all like a poisoned thread; crushing shame that he had tarnished something good. Dean put up iron walls on his emotions before they threatened to consume him and manifest externally. The last thing he needed was Castiel's parents giving him grief over a broken window or chair.

Castiel stared at Dean for what felt like an eternity but which did not amount to more then a few seconds. Then Castiel kissed him back. It was more a meeting of lips with the full intention of turning into a kiss somewhere down the road but nonetheless, not something to put in a romance novel. Castiel's heart on the other hand disagreed with that notion, hammering recklessly within him and oddly brought Castiel back to the sensation of drowning. Only this was the pleasant kind of drowning.

Castiel tried to be calm and collected like Dean had been, but failed miserable. A huge smile flashed on his face. “Wow. Dean I – “

“Hey, don't get all fucking sappy on me, Cas.” 

Castiel winced, which amused Dean greatly. Kissing was fine but apparently swearing was still out of bounds, for bad boy Castiel. Suddenly realizing how Castiel might take those words, Dean cleared his throat. 

“I didn't mean to – you know, I kissed you first, so it's not like that.” Dean said quietly.

Castiel smiled again and although he didn't make a motion to kiss Dean again, he was in no hurry to back away either. Taking some deep, calming breaths Dean tried to temper the storm inside himself. Chewing on his lip nervously, he glanced at Castiel who still wore that stupid, endearing smile on his face.

“You want to see? I wouldn't say I got the hang of it just perfect, but it's definitely easier now. I don't need to be overwhelmed, well sometimes that helps, – “ Dean arched a playful eyebrow at Castiel, eliciting a laugh from him, “but for the most part extra concentration is all it takes.”

“You and concentration, Dean, who would have guessed?” Castiel teased but his attention was all on Dean. 

Sighing softly Dean smiled. It felt good to have Castiel's acceptance, whether that entailed his powers, kissing, or Dean himself. Pointing at the discarded bowl of popcorn on the floor, Dean said, “So funny, Cas, you are hilarious. Look over there and be prepared to see amazing shit.”

At first nothing out of the ordinary happened, but then slowly a few popcorn started to rise up, gently hoovering in mid air. Soon more popcorn joined in and they started swirling around, forming intricate patterns, as they twisted around themselves.

“Wow, I wasn't aware you could do that with popcorn? So your power is to transform popcorn into some sort of maize kaleidoscope? I'm sure the government will jump all over that. Impressive, Dean.”

Dean glared at Castiel, who was quickly bombarded with flying popcorn. They both laughed, and then Dean quickly used his telekinesis to gather up all the evidence of supernatural play and dumped the popcorn back in the bowl.

Suddenly somber, Castiel let his eyes rake quickly over Dean's body. His gaze landed on Dean's lips, Castiel licking his own, as in remembrance of the kiss they shared previously. 

“Dean,” he whispered, “do you think we are going to be okay?” 

Narrowing his eyes, Dean momentarily pondered Castiel's question. The kiss was foremost on his mind, and although Dean hesitated to call it a token of some deeper love just yet, it could have easily been for gratitude, comfort, or just pure lust. That didn't change the fact that he had kissed Castiel and liked it. Fleeting thoughts of his dad and mom he pushed away, banishing to a dark recess in his mind. Rumors had started creeping out from Washington about the others - people like him. Dean was not quiet sure what they entailed but people spoke of them in hushed whispers, with a tinge on fear, while others shouted louder, demanding control of some kind. If and how that control would exert itself, he had yet to discover.

Dean pulled some coins towards him, letting them spin a few inches above his palm, faster and faster. Letting his hand drop to his legs, the coins fell to the floor.

“I have to believe we will be, Cas.”


	22. Attitude Adjustment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Castiel finds Dean Winchester a lacking student both in knowledge and attitude. Luckily there are ways to correct that.
> 
> Notes: Today's prompt was college/teacher. This was going to be short but is now slightly over 2k, oh well.  
> Warnings: Spanking  
> light humiliation (it's late and I might be wrong about that one) If you find another warning or something I've missed please let me know.  
> __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“So Parvati shed her dark skin and from her skin Kali emerged. Kaushika is another name for her which means “the Sheath”. A very different origin story but with emphasis on Kali's blackness, a symbol of eternal darkness, with the potential to destroy and create. Very fitting since Kali is known as the Goddess of Death. But she is also associated with shakti. Does anyone care to explain how femininity and fertility coincides with sexuality and death in the same representation of Ka – “

Castiel stopped, narrowing his eyes and looked at the back door where one last student was walking in. Most of the students coming for these evening lectures already had some special interest in religious studies, gods and their symbolism and he recognized almost all of them from campus. The door to the room closed with an audible sound. Some of the other students twisted in their seats looking back, curious to see who was disrupting class but most of them paid no heed to the newcomer.

This student seemed older then the others and was an unfamiliar face. Short brown hair, dressed casually in dark jeans and plaid shirt he sank down nonchalantly in a chair in the back row and propped up his laptop. 

“Welcome. We started some time ago, but the class notes will be posted on the forum online. You can always look there if you deem that necessary. You are...?”

The man looked down at Castiel and shrugged. “Dean Winchester.” Castiel went over to his desk, looking at the attendance sheet but couldn't find a student neither with the first name Dean or the last name of Winchester.

“I can't find you on the attendance sheet, Mr Winchester. This is the religious symbolism lecture. You have not stumbled into the wrong class perhaps?” That brought small laughter from some students but most of them were squirming in their seats, either in embarrassment for this lost student, or eagerness for the class to carry on. Dean dropped some books on the small desk in front of him. “Nah, you are Castiel Novak right?”

Castiel adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, trying to mask his annoyance. “I'm professor Novak, yes.”

“Then we are good.” Dean looked at him, pen in hand with an impassive face.

Breathing in and then slowly exhaling, Castiel decided to ignore this late student's rudeness. He was older then the rest of the students but apparently his wisdom and manner were lagging far behind. 

“Open your book to page 237, Mr Winchester, and try to follow along. The topic is shakti, fertility and sexuality and how blackness especially is used as a symbol in regards to Kali. Nothing you won't be unfamiliar with I'm sure.” 

Castiel turned his attention to the rest of his class but he didn't fail to notice the confused expression on this Dean's face. Good, he hated disruptions. The rest of the lecture was uneventful. After some minor discussions about how tantric poets changed the imagery of Kali to one of duality; life and death, the students were dismissed.

“Please remember that the paper on Kali and Shiva is due in two weeks. If you have any questions outside class, don't hesitate to email or talk to me.”

Gathering up his notes Castiel glanced up to see that one student was still lingering. It was Dean. Taking the steps two at a time until he was at Castiel's side he looked at him, something obviously weighing on his mind. He chewed on his lip, probably a subconscious habit that he wasn't even aware of, Castiel thought.  
Odd that he should feel nervous, maybe his whole aura of asshole-ness was only powered through the company of others, and now that Dean was alone he felt impotent and deflated. Castiel's lips twitched in amusement at the thought.

“So Mr Novak, really good class. Very fascinating stuff,” Dean said, a smile playing on his lips.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. Usually he had the patience of an angel but there was something with this student that rubbed him the wrong way. 

“Really?” Castiel didn't even try to hide the sarcasm rolling of his tongue. Sure, Dean Winchester had stumbled into the wrong class, that happened all the time to a lot of students. But the arrogance and how he had portrayed himself made Castiel's hands itch. He could teach this Dean a thing or two about proper respect and how important attention was. Those thoughts immediately sent a jolt of pleasure through him. 

“Yeah, it was a good talk.” Dean took another step, passing the point of appropriate and clearly entering Castiel's personal space.

“Mm,”, Castiel mused. “Anything else on your mind, Mr Winchester?”

Dean inched himself closer still. His lashes shadowed his green eyes, a tint of hazel in there, as he looked up at Castiel. Licking his plump lips, his voice was a whisper. “Yes, but I'd rather take it in private, Castiel.”

Castiel looked at him. “I think we can arrange that.” Grabbing his things, Castiel made a follow-me motion and they went out through a side-door. Most of the halls were empty, the majority of students and teachers had gone home hours ago. Walking by a room where a professor was working late, Castiel nodded politely. Dean Winchester had talked in the beginning but noticing Castiel's lack of response quickly fallen into silence and was now following him quietly like a shadow.

They went up a set of stair, emerging into another space where office-doors were lining the corridors. All the way at the end, Castiel opened a door to the left. Dean glanced at the sign. Professor C. Novak. 

“Here we are. Enter please.” 

Dean walked in, looking around at the space which was surprisingly large, but had the feel of a cave due to bookshelves that covered most of the walls. There was a sturdy wooden desk under a window that probably allowed for ample light during the days but now lamps bathed the room in a soft glow. 

Here and there small statues and figurines adorned the place. A round man with an elephant face, a blue women with a wild expression on her face, tongue extended -standing on one leg with a circle of arms around her, a man with a dog head holding a staff and ankh, a beautiful women with long flowing hair and a hole right through her back. Dean looked at some of the titles: _The Origin of Duality in the new Gods. The Destruction of the Mother Goddess. Islam and the Prophet, a study_ – he couldn't say he recognized any of the titles. 

Castiel closed the door and walked over to his desk, putting down his papers. He started unbuttoning the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up to reveal strong underarms.

“Cool … statues.” Dean began, but his eyes were drawn to the muscles on Castiel's arms, how they played with every movement he was making. 

Castiel interrupted him sharply. “First off, it's Mr Novak or Sir for you. Secondly, they are not statues but gods and goddesses, items of worship. A hint of respect would be proper but you have clearly demonstrated that a respectful manner is way beyond you. And thirdly, I know your kind. 

Dean opened his mouth to protest but was cut off.

“Do not interrupt me or I swear to the gods, you will regret it.”

Dean's cheeks heated but he closed his mouth. Although judging by the look he gave Castiel, if looks were lethal, he would be dead ten times over already.

“Let's cut the pretense Dean. You want something and I can give it to you. I'm guessing you failed this class and thought you could waltz in and charm your way to a mediocre grade. I would never lower myself to even give you a grade judging by your abysmal lack of knowledge in gods, symbols and manners. And besides, your effort to do so was... more annoying and laughable then anything else.”

If Castiel thought Dean was upset before, his eyes were practically on fire now. Pleasure sang through Castiel's veins at the look he saw in Dean. He was going to enjoy this.

“But I feel magnanimous today. I will give you a passable grade. All I ask is something in return. Judging by your behavior earlier, I hardly think you will object. Am I correct?

Dean paused for a brief moment as if to speak, then simply nodded. Castiel walked up to Dean, and although they were roughly the same height, Dean felt an impulse to shrink back. Castiel grabbed him by the chin, fingers biting in roughly. 

“I said, do you understand?”

“Yes”, Dean whispered. Castiel's fingers dug in even more and Dean quickly added, “Yes Sir.”

Letting go of Dean's chin Castiel looked at him approvingly. “Take off your clothes and bend over the desk.”

Deftly Dean unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall down to the floor. His pants went next, but as his hands came to the lining of his boxers, they hovered there hesitantly. 

“Now.” Castiel spoke with indifference, but his eyes told another story; hunger and want practically radiating from within. The tight coil of desire that sat low in Dean's gut threatened to explode. He wanted to turn around and run away, and at the same time he fought the desire to just jump Castiel. Swiftly Dean lowered his boxers, revealing a hard dick standing up proudly. A small drop of precome adorned the head. Castiel just gave him a cursory glance and then walked over to a cupboard to his right. When Castiel returned his attention to Dean, he was bent over the desk, his ass in the air. 

“Place your arms over the desk”.

Castiel lay his hand on Dean's ass and gently started stroking his round cheeks. Soon Dean was making minute movements, subtly pressing his fleshy globes up towards Castiel's hand, small murmurs of excitement escaping him. In between strokes Castiel's nails grazed Dean's skin and he noticed goose-flesh appear. Smirking Castiel let a hand travel down to Dean's balls, caressing them. He could hear the hitched sound as Dean breathed in. “How does this feel, Dean?”

With a hoarse whisper, Dean answered. “Mm feels good, Sir.” He moaned in surprise as Castiel's hand connected with his skin. 

“Speak full sentences, Dean. I know you are capable of that, no?” 

“Yes, Sir. I'm sorry about that... Sir.” 

Castiel continued to rub his hands over Dean's ass, small soothing movements suddenly gone as his hand retracted. A sharp slap made Dean arch his back, hips rolling uncontrollably, as pleasure unfurled in him. He was so turned on, his thoughts were barely coherent. He breathed out sharply but hardly had time for another breath as a second slap followed, quickly by a third and fourth. Pain radiated across his skin, and he could imagine his ass all hot-red under Castiel's gaze. Arching his back more, he wanted too feel more. Soothing hands rubbed his cheeks and then Castiel spread them, pressing a finger against his hole. Dean moaned. Fuck me, he thought, he was so ready.

Dean practically vibrated with excitement, his only thought was to feel full. “Please fuck me, Sir. I want to feel you inside me.” Castiel quickly removed his finger and Dean whimpered in protest. 

“I think you have the wrong impression of this session, Dean,” Castiel said smoothly. “It's not about your pleasure.” He grabbed Dean by the hair and yanked his head back. “I want you to count each strike. No mumbling of words. Speak clearly and count to five. You do know how to count, don't you?” A flash of anger was quickly replaced by a nod - surrender. 

“Yes, Sir.” The feel of something rectangular and hard on Dean's skin told him that Castiel's hand was replaced. Blue eyes searched his own for confirmation and then Castiel released the grip on his hair. 

A sharp sting erupted on his right cheek. Dean let out a surprised noise, but Castiel's hand was there, soothing red skin. “One, Sir.” Another sting on aching skin as Dean moaned. “Two, Sir.” The third strike felt like Dean's skin was on fire; he griped the edge of the table tightly. Stuttering, “T-three, Sir,” Dean's thigh muscles quivered in anticipation and pain. Castiel's hand trailed over his ass. Dean couldn't claim the motion was soothing anymore, but it was something different then pain. His cock was so hard, throbbing with need and everything splintered in pain as the paddle hit again. “Fuck...”, Dean erupted in protest, breathing hard. Then he remembered. “Four, Sir.” A hand caressed him, over his ass, up his back, pressing on stiff muscles. 

“You are doing so good. One more, Dean.” The last strike sent pain radiating throughout his backside. With clenched teeth, Dean gritted out, “Five sir,” and then Castiel's hands were all over him, stroking his ass gently, a hand tugging at his hair causing spikes of pleasure to coarse throughout his body. 

“Have you learned your lesson, Dean?” Castiel whispered in his ear. 

Breathing heavily Dean just mumbled, “Yes Mr, Novak.” 

Castiel let go of his hair, his hands trailing over Dean's body, stroking him lovingly. When Dean made a motion to stand, Castiel backed away. Picking up Dean's discarded clothes Castiel handed them over. Dean dressed in silence, slower then usual due to stiff muscles and a stinging ass, then he looked at Castiel and grinned. “Holy shit, that was hot.”

Castiel's blue eyes lit up in amusement. “Didn't I tell you, you would enjoy this?” He bridged the distance between them, and kissed Dean gently. “Am I not always right?” Dean rolled his eyes, tucking his nose in the crock of Castiel's neck and inhaled. 

Suddenly he looked up. “What the hell was that you know how to count shit?” 

Castiel couldn't stop the laugh that escaped him. “Well, I thought it would be interesting to see your reaction”, he quipped.

“Dude, you are not the Math-major in this relationship. Do you even know what the Ramanujan formula is?” Dean teased.

Grabbing Dean's chin and turning it to the side, Castiel kissed him hard. “No, but you didn't get to come, so I win. What's for dinner?”

“Asshole,” Dean retorted and kissed Castiel back, his hand raking through Castiel's hair.

Castiel backed away from the kiss, smirking. “That sounds very nice but another day, love.”

They walked towards the door. Castiel grabbed his things, and looked around the office, making sure everything was in order. Satisfied he closed and locked the door behind them. “Seriously, Dean, what's for dinner? I'm starving.”

Dean sighed. “Just because I love you, I made you that veggie-lentil wanna-be lasagna you like.” 

Castiel grabbed Dean's hand. “Thank you. Now let's go home.”


	23. Shattering the illusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean enjoys his life with Castiel in all their domestic perfect bliss. Today's prompt was the Matrix.
> 
> Warnings: Not so graphic anal sex, slight humiliation-as-a-kink (words), face-slapping, implied threats with a cane.
> 
> Extra spoiler notes at the end.  
> __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It feels like they have been fucking for hours. Dean's skin is covered in a sweaty sheen, his heart pounding wildly against his chest. The cock in his ass feels amazing, like Dean's whole being is centered around Castiel and the pleasure he evokes. With every thrust the angel hits that sweet spot, making Dean moan and revel in the feeling of being so full, of Cas being inside him. Castiel grabs Dean's legs, pushing them further up and apart as he increases his speed, pounding into him like a madman. Dean didn't think it was possible for this to get any better. His desire is coursing through him, his cock weeping precome. 

“Fuck, Cas, if you keep this up, I will come like, right now,” he pants. He contemplates grabbing his dick, but his hands clutch the sheets without thought as Castiel hits his prostrate again. This works too.

“You coming is the plan, Dean”, Castiel smirks and with one last thrust, Dean lets go, white ropes of come spurting on his stomach. Panting Castiel falls on top of him, peppering his jawline with kisses. 

“So how did I do?” he grins, his fingers playing with Dean's damp hair. “Not bad for a belated birthday-gift hmm?”

Dean tries to calm his erratic breathing, his arm over Castiel's body. “I think I should have at least one birthday a month, if this is how it will go, maybe two even. You have set a new standard all over, for fucking, Cas. I will hold you to it.” 

Castiel grins. “I think that's a promise I can keep.”

 

********************

“Dean, are you ready to watch the movies?” Jack is practically glowing with excitement, waiting for Dean to follow him to the man- entertainment cave. Dean doesn't really understand the question since he had been ready from the get-go, and it was Jack that had been insistent they wait one hour while he was making arrangements. Dean didn't really investigate into what those arrangements were. 

He and Castiel spend the time in their room in silence, reading. Mostly it was silence, but now and then Castiel had asked a question about the Silmarils and why the elves were such dicks, much to Dean's amusement. For being a celestial wavelength of intent, Castiel sure was short on patience. Read and find out was not an answer he thought was acceptable.

“Yeah, I'm ready, kid. What's got you so up in a spin?” Jack opens up the door, to reveal a new leather sofa with recliners, with enough room for six adults to sit in comfortably. He waves with a hand. 

“Look Dean, it even has those cup-holders.” Smiling he grabs Deans arm and leads him to the bar. On the polished bar-desk two trays are resting filled with numerous small bowls. Dean glances over the bowls quickly; small, thick sausages in one, black olives in another, small sandwiches cut in perfect squares, carrot and cucumber sticks dipped in hummus, peanuts, some sort of trail-mix minus the raisins – cause yeah, raisins and nuts is just gross together- chips, chocolate-covered pretzels. 

Dean nods appreciatively. “So this is what you needed an hour for Jack, to make all this deliciousness? That is totally OK.”

Jack's grin gets even wider. “Thank you Dean. I even made the hummus from scratch.”

“Hummus yeah, that's impressive. I'm sure Sam will love that.” He grabs a bowl of sausages and goes to take a seat. 

“Yes, well I know that a Star Wars -marathon will take many hours, and I'm sure you will be hungry sooner or later.” 

“Smart thinking, Jack.” Dean mumbles, chewing on a sausage. 

 

********************

The sun has been hiding, partially blocked by clouds for hours. Not that it bothered Dean, it was perfect weather to wash Baby. Besides, she looked picture-perfect outside the Bunker, sun light hitting the soon-to-be-spotless, black finish. 

“Sam, you missed a spot, right on the top. Baby doesn't like that.” Dean said, pointing at a place somewhere on the car's roof.

Glaring at Dean, Sam narrowed his eyes. “What you mean Baby doesn't like it? Just say _you_ don't like it. And I don't understand why you have me wash the roof, she is your prized possession.”

“Sammy, Baby is not a possession”, Dean stated with passion. “And you have longer arms, and I figured with your hair helping with balance you would reach better. Look at it like this, I'm the director and you are the actor, executing my directions. Perfect team-work.”

Reaching down to the cooler, Dean grabbed a beer, twisting the lid off. Taking a sip, he let out a content sigh.

“What the hell dude?” Sam's voice was laced with disbelief. “Are you drinking beer, while I'm washing your car?”

Taking another sip of the beer, Dean grinned. “Yep.”

 

********************

Looking at the huge pile of laundry Dean sighed. He knew his moose-man of a brother was sweating a lot but this was ridiculous. He was sure at least seventy-five percent of the clothes were his. Grabbing the basket he went over to a table, removing some nick-knacks and hoisted it up. 

He started folding, T-shirts this way forming a neat rectangular shape, pants that way as to minimize wrinkles. He had already taken care of the damp shirts, stretching them and putting them on hangers to minimize wrinkles without actually having to iron them. Mom's trick always worked. He could always ask Sam to fold the clothes but then he would insist doing Dean's clothes too, and just no. When Dean would get them back, you would think a moose had chewed and spit them out again. Besides, Dean didn't really mind. It gave him time to just be, a chance to clear his head and thoughts. He liked that.

The creaky door opened and closed again but Dean didn't pay it any mind. Soft hands wrapped him in a hug from behind, as lips kissed his neck.

“Why are you hiding down here?” Cas whispered.

Dean sighed, a warm smile on his lips. He could die for this man. “Not hiding Cas, just having some alone-time.” He put the folded socks to the side, and grabbed another pair.

Humming, Castiel watched as Dean folded the black and red socks, his arms around Dean an anchor, grounded him more then anything in this world. “You know, some would say it's weird that you fold socks.”

Dean snorted. “Well, some could go to hell. Tell Sam I said that.”

Squeezing him, Castiel murmured in his ear, “I thought alone-time would mean something else then... well, this?”

“You know me Cas, I'm full of surprises. Sometimes folding clothes in perfect lines is almost better then you fucking me.” 

Castiel growled as his fingers speared through Dean's hair, causing a thrill of excitement in Dean, his cock turning hard in no time. 

“Hey, Cas, I said _almost_ better then you.” Dean's voice had turned husky, his mind already on other activities better suited for bed then the laundry room.

“I will show you better, Dean.”

 

********************

The little bell chimed when another costumer entered the little cafe. Dean looked at Castiel quickly, his sapphire eyes concentrated on something he found interesting in the newspaper.  
Taking a sip of coffee, the warm liquid calmed him somewhat. Dean tried to remember the last time he felt a sense of true discomfort but came up blank. The waitress came up to them just then, handing them two plates of pie. Steam billowed softly from the pieces , accompanied by the sweet smell of butter, melted sugar and warm apples. 

“Thank you, Ma'am” Dean murmured. Taking a small spoonful of the pie, he let it swing around in his mouth. Just the right amount of sugar, apples nor too hard or mushy, the crumble a hard, pleasant texture with a hint of sweetness to it, salty butter that balanced everything out. Frankly, the pie was fucking perfection. 

Dean dropped the spoon, the sound startling Castiel from his reading.

“You alright, Dean?” Castiel's face was open and friendly, his eyebrow slightly raised in question.

Hesitating at first, Dean went with the truth. “No, I am not OK, Cas. Tell me, when was the last time we had horrible pie at this place or any place?”

Expression marred with confusion, Castiel paused for a moment trying to think.  
“Well, I don't think that has happened.”

Leaning closer to Castiel, Dean spoke in a hushed whisper. “Don't you find that weird Cas? We have been here what... once a week since forever and not once have we had fucked up pie? Dry crust, soggy crumbles, too much sweetness, or apples way too sour to eat? Not to mention that the pie is _always_ warm and fresh from the oven?”

Castiel looked at Dean in silence for a few seconds. “Maybe they heat it in the microwave?”

“I know the difference between a fucking pie heated in the microwave and one coming straight from the oven, Cas.”

 

********************

The slap on Dean's cheek made him reel as he was kneeling, the sting burning sweetly accompanied by pleasure that exploded inside him, finding it's way straight to his cock, already hard and rigid.

Castiel looked at him, steel in his eyes as he grabbed him by the hair. Dean really tried not to smile, it was just that it felt so fucking good, and what could he do, he was a sucker for pain. 

The tingling as Castiel pulled on Dean's hair made him moan, another hand wrapping around his throat, squeezing just right. It was impossible to look away, Castiel's whole demeanor demanded attention.

“This is your problem Dean, you never listen. You are worthless. You think you can try and appease me now? Well too late for that. Eyes down, do not look at me.”

Dean quickly averted his gaze, his whole body thrumming with want and need. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, but considering Castiel had a grip on his throat that was probably a bad idea. Letting go of him, Castiel took a step back. Dean was not sure what he would do next, that was part of the thrill but he knew he felt the absence of Castiel's touch as an ache inside him.

A crack in the air made goose-flesh rise all over Dean's body. Exhilaration tumbled together with fear, not sure which feeling would win over.

“You recognize this, Dean?” Castiel asked with a smooth voice. Dean most certainly did. It was the cane. 

“Judging by the sound of it, it's the cane, sir.” He could feel the wooden instrument as Castiel trailed it over his body, from the chest, slowly making it's way down. It rested at his hard cock, then continued its path down over Dean's thighs, muscles quivering. Finally it found it's intended place as Castiel slowly dragged them over the soles of Dean's feet. Toes involuntarily gripping tight, Dean's breath hitched. 

“It is. Hopefully this will instill the lesson you are too thickheaded to learn. Do as you are fucking told. It is that easy.”

Dean frowned. Not at the words designed to humiliate him, that was hot as hell, a kink of his, but just right then and there it made him pause. _Do as you are told_. When was the last fight he and Castiel had been in. Sure, Castiel mentioned it now but it was all part of their play. When had they fought over something important? Or shouted at each other? Even disagreed on something stupid? It was all so perfect.

********************

 

“So you got a promotion, Cas? Wow, that is great news!” Castiel smiled and kissed him, but Dean was frowning. He hesitated but then decided to just go for it.

“Um, no offense Cas, I know you work hard at that firm, but you've only been there -what- seven months?”

Shrugging, Castiel bend down to take his shoes off. What can I say. I'm good at what I do.”

 

********************

The pie was very good, Dean knew that. He'd tasted numerous pies in his life. There was nothing wrong with this pie. Soft cream-cheese filling, caramel-flavored crust that tasted of perfection. Yellow, just spot-on ripe bananas on the top. It felt wrong anyway. Dean dropped the spoon on the plate, leaving the pie unfinished.

 

********************

Dean smiled at his brother's happiness. Sam's grin lit up his whole face as he went to hug Dean tightly. As they let go, he said “Don't plan anything too dangerous, Dean. I know you are all excited for the bachelor-party but I would like to be in one piece for the wedding. I think Eileen will kill me if I show up with a broken bone or a large bump over my eye.”

Dean's smile faltered. _Who the fuck was Eileen_?”

********************

Dean had his eyes closed as Castiel climbed down in bed with him, trying to modulate his breath. Castiel slung one arm over Dean, kissing his back lazily. Their day today had been perfect. After some time had passed he could hear the even rhythm that told him Castiel had finally fallen asleep. Dean himself lay awake for hours more, unrest and unease in him. Eyes too heavy he finally succumbed to sleep and nightmares for the first time in forever. 

********************

 

 _Perfect_. Dean wake up with a start, echoes of the nightmare still in his head. _What the fuck_? Engulfed in warm thick liquid, his hands pressed on something soft and elastic – it gave way but not enough. Getting up, he kept pressing until the cocoon of goo finally burst. His nostrils flared as he inhaled air. Dean wanted to throw up. Fingers grabbed in panic at his open mouth and whatever was in there. Dean pulled and pulled until finally it was out with a sickening noise, leaving him heaving. 

He was floating around in some kind of pod, cables attached to his neck, arms, stomach, legs. With dread he looked around. Up and down, to his left and right as far as his eyes could see, thousands upon thousands of pods hovered, each containing a sleeping human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to write not about the actual movie cause I haven't seen it in forever but then I got an idea so from basically not having anything it went over 2k. Shh.  
> The events are actually canon-compliant with the movies, just that they describe the first reset when the Machines simulated the perfect world, causing a lot of humans to wake up because they grew suspicious. In the next reset of the Matrix, the Machines implanted imperfections realizing it would make humans more pliable. I don't know what that says about us humans...


	24. Iron and dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is on a mission with a curse looming above him when he meets a forest spirit named Castiel. They join causes.  
> ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A snap of twigs warned Dean that he wasn't alone in the forest anymore. Turning his head towards the sound, he tried to glean something of what was coming towards him but the thick underground shrubbery made that almost impossible. He flexed the fingers on his right arm unconsciously. The pain was a constant reminder of what had happened to him and his village and why he was out here in the first place. Most of his hand and lower arm was covered in a black _something_ , coarser then human skin and slowly inching it's way up. The wise woman hadn't really told him how long he had left before death took him, just that death was a certainty. There was a time when that notion would have disturbed him.

Trying to release the tension in his shoulders Dean rolled his neck, but it didn't do much. He was just a mile or two away from his destination, a town where they produced iron and bullets and a town where people and spirits had been clashing for awhile. 

Crouching down, Dean put his right hand towards the earth, listening. Images and sensations flashed through him, huge trees falling to the ground, shovels digging, the heat of fire burning on his skin, the scent of iron so sharp it made his nostrils flare in disgust, blood soaking the ground and coloring it red. Beneath it all was a residue, like a hum of power permeating the region. Narrowing his eyes, Dean pulled his hand away from the warm earth. That echo of a power hadn't been there this morning, when he was scouting.

A vibration, like a small shift in the air was all that warned him that something was amiss. Turning to the right, Dean's right hand went out without thought, grabbing the huge creature by the neck. Teeth bared in a vicious snarl, the huge wolf was trying to get close to whatever soft tissue it could find to tear and bite, it's aim clearly to hurt, if not kill. Blue eyes stared down at him, and it was something with how they looked at Dean, that send chills down his spine. 

The wolf's claws were digging into the ground, pushing away, slowly inching closer to Dean. Steeling himself, Dean using all of his strength to hold off the animal. His right arm was starting to shake, muscles rigid and he was panting hard. _I will take you down. Tear the flesh from your bones_!

“Calm down, dog. No flesh eating today.” 

The wolf snapped it's mouth shut, all the tension in it's body gone, causing Dean to push the animal away with force. Still down in the grass and dirt, Dean was breathing slow, consciously trying to calm himself. That had been too close. Groaning, he flexed his fingers and tried to straighten them out slowly; his right hand was aching, another layer to the everlasting dull pain that always accompanied him. That shouldn't' have happened. He was usually fine. 

There was that spark of energy again, washing over Dean, causing goose bumps to erupt all over. The wolf was watching him, blue eyes intently fixed on Dean. “I'm just getting up, be easy,” he spoke with a soothing voice. Even standing up the wolf reached him almost up to his collar-bones – this was something entirely different then even a dire wolf. The coat of black fur seemed thick and soft – inviting touch, so much so that under different circumstances Dean would have been tempted to run his hands through it. The wolf growled, baring white sharp teeth. Dean scratched that last thought, he would rather keep his hand cursed as it was, no mind how appealing that fur looked.

_What are you_? The voice in his head sounded more calm now but still suspicious.

“I'm just someone, wandering through these forests. I'm on a mission of sorts.”

_That's not what I asked. I said what, not who? You are no man. You smell... off._

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. A wolf scolding him on his scent when minutes before he was trying to kill him. Slowly Dean raised his hands in front of him. “I'm not trying to harm you.” 

The wolf followed Dean, eyes locking at him suspiciously. _Don't flatter yourself. I will ask you one more time_. Accenting the threat the wolf growled, although it sounded halfhearted.

Letting himself relax, Dean sighed. “I am human. It just so happens that I have a little talent for communing with nature that has been bestowed on me. Not of my choosing either.” He grimaced, stretching his fingers.

_Is it that foul-reeking arm_? As to emphasize his thoughts, the wolf wrinkled his nuzzle and gently shook his head in an almost human-like manner.

Looking down on his arm, the black splotches were almost up to his elbow. Dean did count it as a blessing that the progress was drawn-out. It meant he had time to do what was needed. One thing the experience with the bear-spirit had bestowed upon him was the insight that death although it was inevitable – and in Dean's case would come sooner then later – was something only fools feared.

"It's not foul. Maybe it's not the Gods fairest creation either but it comes with some added abilities. I could sense you.”

There was a sense of amusement emanating from the wolf. 

_If you had my sense of smell, you would most surely call it foul. Not that sensing me did you any good_. There was a brief pause. _The spirits are fickle. You must have done something very bad for them to curse you like that_. The wolf's azure eyes were suddenly solemn. 

Dean's voice was clipped. The topic of the curse was something that he rather not revisit, especially with this wolf-spirit. 

“I made a mistake and have been paying for it ever since. Are you going to curse me too?”

Turning his head to one side slightly the wolf looked almost puzzled. _No, I think one curse is enough. What is your name_?

Glaring at the wolf, Dean scoffed. “You are something else – more then wolf; I can sense power coming of you and I will not be a fool a second time. My name is my own.”

_I am Castiel_ , the wolf said simply.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
Six months later

Dean played with the coarse iron sand, letting it sift through his fingers. Dropping it to the ground he looked down at the city. The forest around the perimeters had been cleared a long time ago, enabling the workers to collect the sand needed to make bullets. Enclosed within wooden barricades and soldiers guarding the only gateway in and out, the men and women in the city had a sense of security that would soon shatter.

Kneeling, Dean dug his hand deeper into the cold soil, sighing. Fires scorching trees, animals slaughtered with no prayers, sharp lashes breaking skin, the thundering sound of axes hammering away at rocks, a heavy taste of iron coating his tongue. Getting up, Dean turned to the side and spat, trying to clear some of the taste away. Castiel arched an eyebrow but his blue eyes burned with angry fire. 

“You don't have to worry about me. I have lived countless life-times, Dean, I will live on. This however will not. Trees will grow here again.” 

Walking to Castiel's side, Dean speared his fingers through Castiel's dark hair, making him moan in pleasure, eyes closing. Dean's hand moved down, scratching Castiel's neck. He could feel the air around them vibrate in anticipation, the earth singing to him in approval. Inching closer, Castiel inhaled Dean's scent just where the neck met the shoulder. He sighed.

“Petting will do nothing to appease me, Dean, although it feels rather nice.”

Dean glanced down at his arm; the curse had inched its way all up to his shoulder. “I'm not worried, just eager. They are an abomination, slaughtering trees and spirits alike. There is a purity in cleansing them from this place. Which form will you take - the wolf I'm guessing?” 

Castiel laughed softly. 

The world shifted and blurred, a sharp, incandescent light that washed over Dean, and then it was gone, as suddenly as it had appeared. Castiel nudged Dean with his snout, azure human-like eyes looking at him. 

_Are you not going to complement me? I am rather magnificent, aren't I?_.

Dean let his hands run through Castiel's black, thick fur, reveling in the familiar feeling and sense of comfort it brought.

“I thought cats were the self-absorbed ones?”

Castiel growled, showing sharp white teeth. _I am no cat_!

“You are gorgeous, Cas. They will tremble before you.” Dean smiled at the sense of contentment coming from Castiel. “Ready?”

Castiel trotted over to Dean, softly pressing his massive body against Dean. _Ready_. 

Together they walked down through the forest, still dense and heavy with branches and leaves in some places, out in the open. Feet and paws on a small dusty gravel road they walked in determined silence towards the city, to rain down fire and judgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Well this could have been better. Writing on only 4 hours of sleep in not something I recommend. Inspired by Princess Mononoke, but kind of reversed cause Dean is not about to bring peace but rather vengeance for the spirits in the forest.


	25. One more day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more day until the humans on Earth became aware that they were not alone in the universe.
> 
> Notes: I don't know what this is... Enjoy the description of weird alien sex.
> 
> ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

On some places on Earth sunlight had just risen to cast its rays over gloomy buildings raising their metallic fingers in the sky, over grassy plains where herd of sheep were grazing, over forests covered in leafy greens were birds singing declared it was early morning. On other places, the sun was slowly setting over mountain tops causing chills winds to turn colder, animals of the night waking up in the jungles to hunt prey, people slowing down in preparation for night and sleep to take them. On some places, the path of the sun did not matter, the cities and it's inhabitants perpetually bathed in light where darkness was banished at all times.

This day, no matter if morning had just started, the day had slowly paced along or night was imminent with its darkness, would be the last day of normalcy for the inhabitants of the planet Earth.

*********************************

Traveling always bored Dean, no matter where the journey took them. It seemed to him when they had seen one place they had seen them all, no matter how much Castiel tried to convince him that their latest destination was different. Mostly it was the actual journey though. Dean couldn't help but picture the destination in his mind's eye and he was always sorely disappointed. That combined with the feeling of being cramped into a space for forever and the initial pangs of hunger now slowly turning into more had him on edge.

“How long does it really take until we are there? We have been traveling forever. You are sure this thing doesn't go any faster?”

Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean. In some respects he was very much still young, patience was not a skill he honed nor had a desire to improve on. Luckily for him Castiel had patience for them both. Looking out a circular window, all he could see was vast darkness surrounding them on all sides, distant stars small pinpricks of light scattered throughout. Going deep the five other ships in the fleet appeared next to them, sleek obsidian spheres that seemed to not so much blend into the darkness as actually be of the it.

“We are at the speed of light, Dean. It doesn't go faster then this. We are always so impatient. Relax, we will be there soon. The others are with us.” Castiel's voice seemed distant and cold as it always did in the Deep.

Putting his hand over Dean's in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, Castiel's lips twitched into something his mind knew was to be a smile but his body didn't quite know how to execute. Not that it bothered Castiel, his physical body was the least of his forms.  
“After this excursion we don't have to feed for a long time. They are not the most advanced creatures but they are more then the usual primordial goo.”

“You just say that to appease me.“ Stretching his arms up, Dean sighed. “Although the last galaxy had a certain flair. I'm really liking the vibrations and energy I can pick up. Come to me, Castiel.” Dean relaxed in the chair and went _deep_ and the whole world became one of sounds, energy and vibrations thrumming through him. A pulsating energy swirled in him, echoing strongly in Castiel, but faint imprints could be sensed – like lingering shadows - coming from the other ships.

To Castiel, Dean was a formless black void, flickering in and out of this dimension, thrumming with energy. He could bring his physical body with him, but that was not his truest form and at this moment he wanted to feel all of them. Sensing his body resting in the chair next to Dean's Castiel let go and tentatively reached out. Pulsating energy beat all around them and Castiel attuned himself to the flow, his form rippling and shaking, echoing Dean's and they swirled around each other, blending. 

The steady pulsating beat of energy was like a humming around them, sounds piercing yet muddled, echoes from many different voices raising up from the deep below. The sharp sound of impatience made them vibrate slower, sluggish in their movements, while another part was pulling away, fast and impatient.

_We are eager for this new world with all it's emotions and energy -maybe we should wait, harmonize more – we can do more, so many forms are waiting for us, there is no need for caution – we are us, we are one, there will always be more to meld the deeper we go_. 

Slowly the vibrations picked up, and DeanCastiel expanded, growing and pulsating with the rhythm of the energy, their form flickering in and out of material plane with increasing speed. Piercing sounds, songs that trembled through them all came together in one sound, _sah, sah, sah_.

_There is only the deep – we are one, wanting, willing, hungry – we are one – one – one_. Until there was only one tune, one energy, one sound – sah, sah, sah.

*********************************

Letting go of the deep was always done with reluctance but at long last, Castiel went up, closing himself off to the energies and sounds around them. He could still pick up resisuees, faint echoes of bliss but it was nothing compared to the true source of going _deep_.

Dean breating slowly and contenedely, his eyes raking over Castiel's body. 

“We did good, Castiel. We can't wait to do that again but we must say the hunger still resides. The thought of new energy, is making us all twitchy.”

Exhaling, Castiel smiled and touched Dean's arm, his fingers going up and stroking Dean's shoulder and neck, caressing his cheek with care. Dean leaned into the touch, sighing softly.

“That was pleasurable yes, but we are there shortly, and then we -I- can revel in new lifeforms. We-I- think we will find it really interesting. They are like us.” 

At Castiel's last remark , Dean perched up, his eyes lit with interest. “Really, like us, I haven't seen one of us since - “

Castiel let his hand trail up in Dean's hair, rubbing his scalp hard. They had been in the chairs for hours while entering the deep, and their bodies were stiff from the prolonged sitting. 

“Not like that, Dean, but their physical appearance is that of resemblance to us. MichaelLucifer projected us -me a knowing while we were merged. We are close now.”

“As long as they are not goo, I really don't care how they look like. What are they on the scale? If I have to consume another number two I think I'll go so _deep_ under, that only you will remain.”

A sharp tug on his hair made Dean hiss in pain, a small resemblance of it he thought at least. The pain of the physical body coming so close after the melding of the _deep_ tended to make the body more resilient for awhile, more sturdy. 

“We are one, Dean and if I have to drag you back kicking and screaming I will.” Castiel's eyes shone with anger, his eyebrows drawn down in irritation. 

Letting out a curt laugh, Dean caressed Castiel's arm until he let go of Dean's hair. “I was not serious, I will never leave us. Besides, I will never forgive myself if you go off melding with Michael and Lucifer. They act like they are firstborn or something.” 

Shrugging Castiel said, “Well, they did find each other -”

“It was a fraction faster then we did. I think them consuming the Sephil, put weird ideas in their minds, they are not better then us, they just are. They have always let some of the energy influence them. It should be of our choosing, not the energy choosing.” Dean made a disgusted grimace.

“Yes, they do not meld to the extent they should. Anyways, I think these new lifeforms are a four on the scale, humans they call themselves.”

A four meant their civilization and technology was not advanced at all but their minds had come so far along as to feel basic emotions like fear and love and all other complexities that came with an emerging self-awareness.

“Number four is my favorite number.” Dean grinned.

“You always liked your meals quick and easy,” Castiel said wryly.

********************************* 

It was midday, the sun shining merciless on a small place named Lebanon, Kansas in the country called United States of America. Donatello Redfield was walking along the sidewalk with a bucket of fried chicken. It was still warm and his apartment was just a few steps away. 

A small flickering, more of a shimmer really, caught his attention and he turned to the left only to see a smooth black sphere made of... something appear before his eyes. Sah-sah-sah echoed around him, an odd sound he had never heard before. The bucket of chicken slid the the ground as Donatello let out a scream.


	26. Here I am again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel Collins, author of horror-stories for children surprises Dean Winchester, former actor on the show Not Natural by knocking on his door in the middle of the night, his condition far from tip-top.
> 
> Notes: Today's prompt was Magical Girl and boy was I not feeling it. So there is a reference to a magical girl in this story and that's about it, lol. 
> 
> This is a snippet from chapter 3 of Not Dead Winchester! Barely proof-read so excuse errors and grammatical mistakes. No warnings. Maybe for some foul language...  
> __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Castiel, what are you doing here?” The look of surprise on Dean Winchester's face quickly turns into concern and worry as he takes in Castiel's scruffy and battered appearance. “You are hurt. Let me -”

“I think you have done enough, “ Castiel grits out through clenched teeth. He knows he is not making any sense right now, but he is too tired to really care. Looking down he realizes he has dragged a small swamp in with him; water, leaves and mud covers not only him but the hallway he stands in. Dean is wearing a pair of boxers and a black T-shirt, probably getting ready for bed, and still he is looking good, more so then Castiel thinks is fair. He removes his wet sweater and chucks it on the floor. 

Dean immediately picks it up. He doesn't say anything about Castiel's weird outburst.  
“Let me take that for you.” Castiel is shivering, wet and looks like he has had a wrestling match with the forest. “Take your shoes off and follow me, I'll show you to the bathroom where you can clean up and take a shower.” 

They walk in silence, Castiel's wet feet making squishy sounds on the wooden floor. Taking a quick look back Dean sees Castiel look around, eyes huge despite him looking like shit, limping along. The house Dean called home most of the time was more on the luxurious side, then the typical tourist cabin in the woods. High ceiling, walls painted in cream with wooden details around the windows and doors, polished floors with thick carpets. 

Castiel looks up as they pass the living room – a huge ornate lamp is hanging from the ceiling and then he notices the huge fireplace with dark stones creeping up the wall and the L-shaped couch with the marble table. He mutters something that clearly sounds like displeasure and Dean can't help but smile. Opening a door, Dean motions for Castiel to get inside. 

“There are clean towels on the bench and shampoo and soap to clean yourself with in the shower.” Looking at Castiel's face and glancing down to his hip, Dean sighed. “You take your time. I will get something for your um... behind. Just toss the wet clothes on the floor, I'll take care of it for you. “

The thought of imminent warm water makes Castiel relax somewhat; he needs a shower, a good clean-up and shut-eye. As the door closes behind him he lets out a sigh. Looking around he tries to no be impressed but fails. The bathroom is something all together different then back at Castiel's cabin. Grey stone, sleek fancy faucets, plush bathroom rug that he digs his toes into. He takes off his clothes and lets them fall on the floor. His skin is covered in goosebumps. When he is to remove his pants they cling to him like a second skin. After jumping around like a flamingo on speed for several seconds he gives up and carefully sits down on the bench. Inch by inch he pulls the pants down until he can climb out of them. Underwear faces the same faith and then Castiel steps into the shower. 

The shower stall is made of some gray stone, marble maybe or lime stone, charcoal perhaps. Could you even make walls of charcoal? Castiel wasn't really sure but he was writing about killer mummies and vampires befriending puppies, so what did he really know about stones. Turning the water on, he moves back against the wall and lets the water heat up. When it's comfortable enough he gets under the spray and sighs. It's like being pebbled by the sweet kisses of baby Jesus himself. 

Grabbing a soap Castiel takes a whiff. It smells of coconut, probably organic and made from the really nice coconut parts. He lathers himself up and curses loudly as his body flares up in pain. Note to self, soap in wounds sting. Quickly he rinses the soap of and then grabs the shampoo. Another whiff and he wrinkles his nose in disgust. Squinting Castiel reads the label. Tea-tree. Sure Dean, you have this mega-killer cabin in the middle of the woods but you still use shampoo that smells like dead animal. 

He still applies it to his hair, building up a lather, massaging his scalp and then lets the water clean him off as he tries to ignore the burning sensation on his arms and face. Castiel stands there for a while, letting the warm water pour over him as steam rises high. Soon the irrational anger he felt at Dean is gone, replaced by contentment at feeling clean and warm again. 

When the hot water slowly turns lukewarm, he scurries out of the shower and wraps himself up in a thick towel. Next to the towels are some sweatpants, clean underwear and a T-shirt. His wet clothes are nowhere to be seen. Dean had probably been here while Castiel had indulged himself in a steaming. The thought of Dean accidentally seeing Cas naked in the shower stirs up something inside of him, but he is too tired to be overly excited; and it's very unlikely that Dean saw anything anyway since there is a marble-charcoal wall in the way. Tomorrow will be a new day for sexy thoughts about Dean and not so foolish actions from Cas. Bending down Castiel grimaces at the pain on his bottom when he hears a knock on the door.

“Come in, I'm done and decent.” Castiel grimaces. Why did he add that last word? Of course he was decent. Great, now Dean would go around thinking not only that he was Mr Weird Stalker but that he also moonlighted as a flasher.

Dean enters, holding a small tube of some ointment in his hand. Smiling softly he hands the tube over. 

“You look much better now. The dirt and mud look was so 2005.” His green eyes lit up at his own joke, but then he turns serious as he quickly looks Castiel over, eyes lingering on his stomach. Dean turns abruptly, clearing his throat. “Anyway, I'm sure you can manage the next part by yourself. I'll show you were you can sleep when you are done.” 

When Castiel finishes, Dean is waiting outside, casually leaning against the wall looking at his phone. Hearing the door open, he looks up. 

“Much more presentable Cas. Can I call you Cas? Castiel doesn't exactly flow easy on the tongue. You wouldn't believe how many retakes I had to do while saying Hahasiah.” 

Castiel nods. “Sure, Cas is fine.” Of course Cas was fine! It was one step closer to something, that Cas hadn't defined quite yet.

Dean leads Castiel down a dimly lit hallway, with a room at the far end. “This is a guest room, it's pretty small but the bed is good. You have some more clothes in the dresser. You own clothes will be clean and dry for tomorrow. If you are still here then, that is.” 

Castiel looks up, eyes widening in surprise. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, a smile plays over Dean's lips. “I don't know. You are like some magical girl, suddenly you are there, and then you are not. Kind of like Sailor Moon but more seinen, and less shojo. You appear here in the middle of the night, with fucking murder in your eyes, straight out of a horror movie with blood all over. I'm starting to think you are the I-want-to-kill-you-kind of fan despite your earlier statement, and that you were disappointed in my non-death.”

Opening his mouth to protest, Castiel realizes that he doesn't have a good answer. Dean's description doesn't paint a pretty picture but to Castiel's shame it's a fairly accurate one. Well, if you substitute kill with fuck, but Castiel is not going to correct Dean on that part.

“Here, take these against the pain. You have a glass of water on the night-stand. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm beat. My bedroom is right opposite the hall.” Dean gestures vaguely. “We can have this conversation in the morning. I'm a late sleeper.” He hands Castiel some pills. “Sleep well, Cas.” With that Dean turns around, leaving him alone.

“You too, Dean.” 

Taking the pills in mouth Castiel swallows them with some lukewarm water. Crawling down into a warm bed feels like he is being reborn again and he can almost pretend that the whole ordeal has been a bad memory. Fuck, the mattress was memory-foam. Castiel sighs as he sinks down slightly; it feels really pleasant. Realizing that he hadn't even freaked out being around Dean Winchester, well if you didn't take the little rage-episode in to account was a win. Almost as an afterthought he recognizes that he had completely forgot to ask Dean about the note with the coordinates. Yawning once, that thought fades away quickly as Castiel is overtaken by sleep.


	27. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gift from Castiel has unintended consequences for Dean.
> 
> No warnings in this chapter.  
> ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Castiel opened the door to their room. Dean was on the bed, listening to what Castiel guessed was that rock music he was particularity fond of, a foot swinging in rhythm to some unheard beat. Seeing Castiel, Dean removed his headphones and smiled. His whole face lit up in a way that still made Castiel's heart beat faster. Walking up to Dean, Castiel pressed a kiss to his lips and then put the wooden box down on his bed.

“Hiya, Cas. Is it my birthday already?” Dean looked at the box questioningly.

Castiel shook his head but couldn't help the smile that was on his face.

”No, but it is customary to bring the person you love gifts now and then so I thought you would like something special. It's a memorabilia of sorts. You have helped me a lot these years so I thought I'd give you something nice to look at.“ 

Dean grinned, punching Castiel's arm. “Something nice to look at? Does it involve you, with no clothes on? You didn't have too, Cas. Morning coffee is all I need, maybe a blowjob now and then.” Dean winked but still grabbed the box with enthusiasm and slowly opened the lid. The gift inside was wrapped in some white cloth that looked like it would fall to pieces any moment. Dean unfolded and tossed the cloth on the empty space next to him.

“Whoa, Cas, how did you get a hold of this?” Gingerly Dean picked up the magazine, _Sweet Princess Asuka meets the tentacles of pleasure_. Reading the small printed text next to the title he looked up at Castiel, eyebrow arched in surprise. “The first edition? That's really nice. Do you know how much money this is worth? Probably at least... I have no idea, but I'm sure it's a lot. Really Cas, this is a great gift.”

Castiel grinned, one of those gummy smiles he always did and nodded. “Thank you, Dean. I got it from Nagasaki in Japan; it's the magazine your movie is based on. The wooden box is actually over 100 years old, at least that's what the seller told me. I thought you could put it over our – ”

Dean let out a surprised sound and jumped of the bed as something hovered next to him. 

“Dean, watch -” 

The white cloth was flying around in the air, and with surprising speed it wrapped itself around Dean's throat. Dean's hands flew up as he tried to tear it off at the same time as Castiel ran to his side. Trying to wiggle his fingers between Dean's throat and the cloth seemed impossible as the cloth only seemed to wrap itself tighter. 

“Dean!” Realizing that nothing Castiel had in their room would help he teleported to Sam who he knew was in the library. 

Sam raised an eyebrow in surprise at Castiel's sudden appearance. The angel never teleported in the actual Bunker. Castiel went straight for the cupboard closest to Sam, pulling open the last drawer to the right. That was were they kept the holy oil. Raising abruptly from his chair, Sam looked at Castiel. 

“Cas, what's going – ”

“It's Dean!” Castiel exclaimed and then he was gone. 

Faster then thought Castiel was back in their room. Dean has tried to fight the cloth; a chair was overturned, books were all over the place as if Dean had been slammed into shelves, but it looked like a fight he was slowly losing. He was on the floor, still fighting and kicking but to no avail as the cloth tried to jerk him around.

“Dean, I got it. Hold on!” Looking at what Castiel held in his hand, Dean tried to shake his head as the cloth flailed wildly. Standing over Dean, Castiel opened the bottle and doused some of the cloth in the oil. 

“I think this will work... As you say you got to wing it sometimes.” Dean's eyes went huge, apparently disagreeing wholeheartedly with Castiel's sentiment. Grabbing a lighter from the pocket of his trench coat, Castiel put a hand on Dean's chest, trying to keep him still. 

“Soon, Dean, be steady.” Flicking the lighter, he held it against the cloth. The aggressive piece of cotton caught fire and immediately let go of the hunter's neck. Dean inhaled air, wheezing and coughing as the cloth flew around the room, the fire catching on. As quickly as it had come alive, it went out in a huge burst of flames. Small pieces of the cotton gently landed on the floor, the only evidence of the cursed cloth. 

Dean was trying to calm his breath as Castiel went up to him and hugged him. 

“Dean, are you alright? I guessed that it was a cursed object, holy oil usually-”

Trying to say something only caused Dean to cough violently, but after a few seconds he produced a hoarse imitation of his usual voice.

“Guessed? You could – ” Another fitful cough caught him, but Dean glared as hard as he could, hoping that would convey his displeasure. 

The door swung open with force as Sam entered, looked around to see what was amiss. “Dean, you alright?”

Holding out a placating hand, Dean coughed some more. “Fine Sammy... I'm good. Just got hugged real tight there for a second.” Castiel went over to the box and picked it up. 

“It must have been an ittan-momen”, Castiel said thoughtfully, “I was in Japan after all and the -”

“In a moment what?” Dean had finally decided that the wisest thing to do was to rest and take it easy as he was on the edge of the bed, rubbing his throat gingerly.

Sam looked surprised. Walking over to a desk, he grabbed a pitcher of water and poured the clear liquid in a glass. “Wow, really Cas? Ittan-momen Dean, it's a Japanese Tsukumogami.” Handing the glass to Dean, Sam looked at Castiel, clearly needing an explanation. “How did it get here?”  
“A Tsukumogami Dean, is a tool or the like, that has acquired a form of spirit. The lore states that happens after a century right before the tool is to be discarded. I think yours was a specific spirit called ittan-momen, it's a roll of cotton who attacks humans and... smoother them.

Taking some water, Dean grimaced as he swallowed. “That's just great, so basically I was attacked by a self-aware towel.”

Sam grinned. “It's not the weirdest creature we have come across, Dean.” He looked over at Castiel. “Seems you guys have everything under control again so... I'll be elsewhere. Let me know if you need anything.”

As soon as Sam closed the door Castiel started apologizing, “Dean, I would have never acquired the magazine if I knew it came with a cursed object.”

Making a come-here motion, Dean put the glass down. As Castiel sat by Dean's side, Dean hugged him. “Don't worry about the cloth Cas. I said it was a nice gift and I still mean it. Just make sure it's not cursed next time, thanks.”

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel put two fingers softly against Dean's forehead and healed him.

“There”. There was a small pause as Castiel looked at Dean. “So... do you want to watch the movie sometime? The copy I mean. I do understand the basic premise of the plot.” 

Looking at Castiel, Dean's eyes crinkled as he laughed and coughed at the same time.  
“Plot, yeah. Sounds like a good idea, Cas. But for now, let us just... take it easy for a few.” 

Dean lay down in bed and scooted over to make more room for Castiel. Wrapping one arm around Dean, Castiel sighed as Dean lay his head on his chest. If felt more like home then anything else. They lay there together until Castiel could feel Dean finally relax and fall asleep. Castiel went under short after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ittan-momen is a kind of yokai (monster, demon) in Japanese mythology so I take that as a creature ; ) Only that in this case the yokai appears as an inanimate object becoming well...animated.  
> 


	28. Sith down and let met seduce you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean really doesn't want to go to the Star-Wars charity event, but Charlie has made a costume so how can he say no?
> 
> Warning for: Some foul language, hot kisses and sexual fondling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dreaded this prompt lol ... but it came out fairly good I think. Any mistake in Star Wars lore is on me. Over the 2k limit but I hope I'm forgiven.  
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When the invitation had dropped in their mailbox Charlie had been all ecstatic. The Star-Wars themed charity party was all she had talked about for weeks and since her boss was the one being responsible for said event she knew that she would get an invite. Dean didn't really get her enthusiasm. Sure, he had seen the old Star Wars movies once, but that had been years ago and although he was aware that there were some new ones out, he couldn't say that he was really caught up in the craze of some cosmic battle with the Force and Siths and really confusing timelines.

“You are going too, Dean”, Charlie said, certainty in her voice. She had her red hair braided so it wouldn't be in the way while she was doing the finishing touches on her costume. Sighing, Dean slumped down in the chair next to her. 

“I love you, I love dress-up but Star Wars is not my thing.” He looked down at her costume. “I don't even have nothing remotely Star-Warsey to wear so. Why can't Kevin go with you? If I remember he loves those sort of things as much as I do.” 

Charlie looked at him from the corner of her eye and then turned her attention back on the black cloth she was turning into a knee-patch. “You must be the only fantasy and sci-fi lover I know who _doesn't_ like Star Wars. Come on, Dean. It'll be fun. You always enjoy our role-playing together, I really don't see how this is any different. Just see it as low-key larping, with no script, fight-scenes or action whatsoever.”

Raking his fingers through his hair Dean snorted. “Yeah, basically taking away all the fun out of larping, sounds fan-fucking-tastic.”

Smiling mischievously, Charlie poked him with the needle. Jumping, Dean glared at her.  
“The fuck, Charlie? What was that for?”

“I thought I'd prick that foul temper out of you. Hold this and pull it tightly.” Charlie shoved some piece of the costume in his lap. Doing as he was told, she continued. “The invitation said plus one. You are my plus one. It's for a good cause. And don't worry about the costume. It's been taken care of.”

Looking at her suspiciously, Dean pulled at the fabric some more. “I appreciate you wanting me to come. What do you mean it's been taken care of?” He did not like the sound of this.

“My costume is going to be bad-ass and since you are going with me, you need to look equally bad-ass. Do you really think that I only managed to do _one_ costume?” Sighing in mock-disappointment, she pulled the needle through the fabric. “Scissors, please. Nope, I have yours finished too. Custom-made, only the best for my Dean.”

Leaning in, Dean kissed the top of her head. “Thanks, Charlie.” 

Smiling, Charlie got up – the costume, or what was a piece of it – in hand. She walked over to a walk-in- closet, looking for a hanger. “I got your back, Dean. No worries.” Her voice was muffled as she went further in. “Besides, since my boss is holding the party and all, he is going to be there. You know... The hot guy Castiel with killer-blue eyes. I think you'd like him. If I wasn't into chicks and the whole shebang I'd do him.”

Rubbing his hands over his face Dean groaned. “Charlie! Why would I even want to meet him? Judging from your description he sounds like an ass! I don't care that you claim he is all Mr. Dreamy.”

Charlie poked her head out of the closet. “Number one, he is only an ass sometimes, when people deserve it. I never do. Number two, have you seen him? He is so your type. And number three, you need to try and stop being fearful and start dating again, just for fun. I know what Lisa did to you was shitty but it's been almost a year, sweetie. You of all people don't need to punish yourself. It was not your fault. Live a little, get some pussy or dick. It will be fun. Who knows, maybe you like assholes?”

Dean laughed out loud. “That was a lame one, even for you.” Charlie smiled, her green eyes lit with amusement. Letting out a breath, Dean grumbled. “Fine, I'll come with you.”

“I knew you would, Dean.”

***************

As Charlie stepped out of the bathroom Dean could do nothing but gape. “Holy shit, Charlie. That looks amazing.” From the sand-colored uniform, the black wrist-guards with weapons attached to them, smooth gloves and the obsidian- colored breast-plate to the oversized, beige shoulder plates, everything screamed killer bounty-hunter. The helmet was the same color as the rest of the costume except for the black T-shape visor.

Removing her helmet, Charlie grinned. “It does, doesn't it? I did the weapons a long time ago. Who doesn't love a nice bounty-hunter? Are you ready to try on your costume?”

Dean had tried the whole week to get some clues about his costume, but Charlie had been adamant they wait until now to try them on. Dean had a suspicion she only did so cause she liked to see him squirm. Looking at her costume though, Dean silently sighed in relief. He knew that she was good with costuming or whatever you called it, but she had really outdone herself this time. 

“Do I need to be afraid?” Dean teased.

“Of course not! Only the best for you. Since you are my arm-piece I can't have you look like a third-grade cosplayer. It will reflect poorly on me.”

After what felt like an hour, Dean had finally gotten into his costume. 

“Wow, you look amazing Dean. You ready to see the masterpiece you have become?” Dean rolled his eyes, but then realized Charlie couldn't see that since he was wearing his mask. 

“Ready?”Charlie was practically jumping up and down. “OK, turn around.”

Dean did as instructed and let out an impressive breath as he saw himself in the mirror.  
“Wow, Charlie, you are a true magician. This is fucking amazing.” Everything fit like a glove, from the dark robe hanging around his shoulders to the intricate chest piece made of black leather and some kind of metal. The black long skirt-like bottom had a nice heavy feel to it. Some kind of belt looped around him twice accentuating his waist by before falling down along one thigh. His mask was made of some kind of gray metal, the visor a thin horizontal line across his eyes, but wide enough so he could see.

“I look... who do I look like? I don't recognize this bad-ass dude.”

Adjusting Dean's mask Charlie practically beamed with pride. “You are Darth Revan, basically you fought against the Mandalorians against the Council's wishes. You saved a bunch of worlds, kind of went dark a bit, rebelled against your Sith emperor and then you kind of got kidnapped and mind-wiped by the Jedi and retrained as one of them.”

Wrinkling his forehead in confusion Dean looked at her. “Do I need to know all this? Will there be some sort of quiz at this event?”

Charlie slapped Dean on the shoulder. “No dumb ass. You are Darth Revan, awesome Sith or Jedi. You pick.”

*************** 

The event was bustling with people dressed in all sorts of costumes. From white storm-troopers, brown Ewoks and golden robots looking like C3p0, to more exotic ones that Dean didn't recognize, like that guy having huge yellow eyes and resembling some sort of fish in an orange jumpsuit, or the woman that had passed by him, dressed in black with a pale face and two huge fake horns protruding from her skull, basically looking like a space Satan.

The music was loud, people screamed more than talked but that was the way of fund-raisers he guessed. Shrugging Dean grabbed another blue drink and took a gulp. He made a slight grimace, it was just a tad too sweet but it had alcohol in it, so it worked. He searched the crowd until he found Charlie, in a group with other bounty hunters. He couldn't help but laugh when he saw her take her gun out and get impressive ohs and ahs. Dean's helmet was next to him, after a few hours it had been way too sweaty with the thing on, and he had to eat. 

Diner had been uneventful although it had been pretty warm, despite Dean taking off his cloak and gloves. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he figured just a few more hours and then they could go home. Quite a few people had walked up to him and asked a bunch of questions, so clearly Charlie had done an amazing job, but they had quickly left when they realized he was in their eyes a Star Wars- illiterate and not up to their level of expertise.

From the crowd Dean noticed a man purposely walk towards him, dressed in what looked like a heavily draped black skirt and tunic, a wide belt around his waist and a billowing hood pulled up cloaking his face in shadow. Apparently black was a theme tonight, Dean thought but sighed soon after. Hopefully, this wasn't another one with a bunch of questions. Charlie had said there would be no quiz, but there sure as hell were a lot of questions being asked anyway.

The man grabbed a drink, and took a stand next to Dean, turning towards him. “So, how do you like the party so far?” His voice was smooth and deep. Dean liked it.

He looked at the man but realized he still had his mask on. Good luck drinking that, Dean thought and had to bite his cheek as not to start laughing. “Good, good. I've never been to a Star-Wars charity event before but so far I like it. Food is good, although the event could use a tad more beer.” To make a point, Dean took another swing of his blue drink. “I'm here with my friend Charlie.”

The man in the mask nodded and raised his voice to be heard. “I'm glad to hear that. Making a note on the beer though. So, Darth Revan? He is not from the official movies but he is a great character in the game. Got his party at the Temple of Rakata Prime in the end.”

Dean's confusion made him bite out his answer. “What? Look, I'm not really into the um.. universe. Charlie made this costume, I know I'm a Sith or Jedi, maybe both. That's it.”

“I'm Kylo Ren, from the latest movies.” He extended his hand and Dean shook it. 

“Hi Kylo, I'm Dean Winchester.” 

Kylo took another step towards him, leaving his drink on the table. “Come with me, this crowd is way too loud.” 

Dean hesitated for a moment, searching Charlie out again but she seemed to have fun and the notion of getting away from the overbearing music was very appealing. Taking the last of the drink in a big gulp, Dean grabbed his helmet and followed Kylo-dude.

Kylo led them to a door on the left side of the huge event space and as they entered they found themselves in a corridor. Kylo walked briskly to the end and another door, his cloak billowing behind him. Dean suddenly realized how hot that looked. Great, now I have a weird cloak-kink too. Dean's boots thundered on the floor, but the sounds of the party were muted. When Dean caught up Kylo looked at him, and it made Dean uneasy not to know what his eyes were focused on. 

“Just through this door, Dean.” When they went through he realized they were outside. The night was somewhat chilly but the fresh air felt nice and Dean breathed in, expanding his lungs.

“Mm this feels way better than the stale air inside.”

“It does, doesn't it?” Kylo was close to him, so much so that Dean imagined he could feel his body heat. 

Dean noticed the details on Kylo's belt and helmet. “Yeah. Really nice costume. You made it yourself?”

Kylo laughed, a rich sound that sounded somewhat strange bouncing around in the helmet. “No, I had expertise help you could say. Only the finest materials, custom-made was a must. Suits me as long as people are equally generous with their contributions at the event. You want to take a closer look at the helmet?”

“Sure, but I will not know if it's historically accurate or whatever.”

Kylo stepped closer to Dean, almost touching him and Dean caught a whiff of a pleasant perfume mingled with the scent of this mystery man. Suddenly Dean realized that he hadn't had sex for almost a year, that this guy was wearing a belt that showed of his figure very nicely and that was all it took for Dean's cock to get hard. Fucking hell. Bending down, Dean put the helmet on the ground.

Realizing that his gloves were in the way, Dean discarded them on the ground with the helmet. Kylo grabbed Dean's hand gingerly as if he was afraid Dean would run and brought it up to his helmet. 

Following the intricate etchings above the mask's eyes with his fingers Dean spoke quietly. “Mm, that's really nice. Whoever did this must have been very skilled.”

“Yes, very.” Kylo moved an inch and Dean felt his groin rub against the other man's. Sudden heat flared inside him and Dean had to breathe out slowly. Wishing his cock flaccid was futile but he hoped Kylo hadn't noticed. 

That thought was quickly crushed when Kylo's gloved hand went to Dean's cheek, stroking him lightly, and then stopping midway as if to ask for permission.

Afraid Dean's voice would break, he whispered hoarsely. “Yeah, go on.” What was wrong with him? He didn't even know what the guy looked like, but right then and there Dean didn't care. Kylo continued stroking him with one hand as the other hand went to his chest, down alongside his waist, grabbing tight. 

Another thrill of excitement went through him and Dean moaned. He blamed it on his year of absence from the dating scene but it felt like he could come then and there. He had to apologize to Charlie, this was definitely as good as larping.

“More?” Kylo's voice was husky, clearly, he wasn't unaffected either. 

Nodding, Dean whispered. “Yeah, please.” The feeling of not knowing, of the mask obscuring his face, only added to Dean's desire.

Kylo's hand left Dean's face, brushing over his groin instead, feeling his hard cock and squeezing lightly. He should wear skirts more often, Dean thought numbly through his desire-laden mind. 

“Close your eyes”, Kylo said, as if expecting obedience.

Hell, he sure got it from Dean. Closing his eyes, his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. Dean was pretty sure this was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to him. There was a brief pause and then Kylo's hand was gone from his groin. Dean almost moaned in disappointment.

Suddenly chafed hot lips were tentatively on his own, and let out another moan, Dean opened up. He felt Kylo's tongue swirl inside, kissing gently at first, but then unrestrained as he felt Dean snake a hand around Kylo's waist and pull him closer. This was a kiss speaking of hunger and want, demanding and unyielding and it left Dean breathless. Finally, Kylo pulled back and all Dean could feel for a moment was a soft breeze on his face and his cock throbbing painfully.

A finger on Dean's mouth and then that voice again. “Open your eyes, Dean.” 

It was impossible not to obey. Slowly opening his eyes, Dean stared into blue eyes like a storm painting the ocean in the darkest of colors.

“Castiel...” Dean whispered recognizing Charlie's boss as Castiel lowered his finger from Dean's mouth.

“In the flesh”, Castiel teased, a smile playing on his lips but his eyes still hungry for more. “I hope this revelation doesn't deter you from more.” He searched Dean's eyes, looking for something close to dismissal but found nothing but mirth.

Dean started laughing. “Your expertise help... let me guess – “

Castiel smiled and confirmed Dean's suspicions. “Yes, that was Charlie. I hope I'm not... Do you want to start over? And do this like normal people over dinner and lit candles, maybe a movie?”

“Not dressed as evil Sith lords? Sounds good as long as the movie isn't Star Wars.” Dean grinned.

“It's a date then.” Castiel said, clearly pleased with himself.

Dean was going to have a serious talk with Charlie when they got home, but right that moment, he was grateful that she had set up this elaborate scheme. They talked for a few more minutes, undisturbed and at peace before they went back to the party, dark cloaks tumbling behind them.


	29. The ship and soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester needs a room-mate and Charlie is more then ready to help him.
> 
> No warnings , just sweet fluff I think.  
> ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dean Winchester didn't really want a room mate, he was perfectly fine living on his own but the rent for his apartment had gone up suddenly. He was as pre-school teacher, and although he loved being around kids and all the work it entailed, the pay wasn't exactly top-dollar. Left with no choice he did what any sensible person would do and asked his friends if they knew someone who might know anyone that needed a place to stay. 

That was the very reason he was sitting in the tiny but cozy cafe that apparently specialized in Scandinavian cookies and cakes, something his friend Charlie was clearly excited about. 

“You should totally try the cinnamon buns and these cookies called Dreams. They are a truly a dream, crisp with a hint of vanilla. Oh, and while you're at it, do a saffron bun too.”

Dean smiled and looked at the small, round and very unassuming cookie on his plate. “I think this Farmer cookie looks peachy, although I really don't see any connection with farmers.” Taking a bite, he nodded his head appreciatively. “Okay Charlie, this was good, I'll give you that. Speaking of dreams, you sure this guy, Casel, Gazelle, is any good?”

Finishing her coffee, Charlie rolled her eyes. “It's Castiel, not really that hard if you try, Dean. And yes, I've known him for almost a year. He is really sweet, reliable, has a job the last time I checked. Honest, will not try to cheat you with rent and bonus for you, he is totally hot.” She smiled as she winked at Dean.

Sighing, Dean took another bite of his cookie. “You do realize that I need someone to help me with rent, not someone to date?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, Charlie got up from her seat. “I really don't see why you can't do both. You will be fine, he is a nice guy, just say yes! Did I mention that he has dark hair and a bit of scruff?”

“Yes, you did Charlie, twice.”

Grinning, Charlie, grabbed her mug and plate. “Good, just making sure that you realize how awesome I am at match-making. I will leave you to it. He will probably be here soon. Bye, sweetie.” 

“This is not a match- making but a serious – “ Charlie had already turned her back on him, putting down the dirty dishes at the designated place. Heading towards the door, she threw him a kiss and made a call-me- sign. Dean just nodded and waived her off. Sighing he finished the last of his cookie. God, he loved Charlie to death but sometimes she acted like an annoying little-sister he wished he could return somewhere. 

After a few minutes a man entered the cafe. The denim shirt and black jeans he wore were snug enough to hint at strength and a well-toned body but it was the messy, dark brown hair and glasses, accompanied with a scruff on his chin that made Dean moan and curse silently at Charlie. She definitely knew what she was doing. It was like this guy had walked straight out of one of Dean's daydreams. Dean held on to hope though. Maybe this Casel guy had horrible breath, or they would not get along or his voice was really high-pitched. 

The man scanned the crowd, finding Dean and walked over to the table, a hand raised in greeting. Sitting down, they shook hands. Dean noticed he was holding a folder of some kind.

“Hi, I'm Castiel. You are Dean Winchester?” 

Dean cursed internally. The guy's voice was smooth, with a sexy timbre. That meant nothing. If they got along, Dean would have a room-mate, could keep the apartment he loved, that was it.

“Yes, nice to meet you. So Charlie said you two were friends and that you needed a place to stay?” 

Castiel's smile lit up at the mention of Charlie's name. “Yeah, that's right. I'm in a bit of a bind to be honest. I was room-sharing with a guy, Chuck, then he found a girl and suddenly I was expendable. I should have moved out yesterday so If all this works out and you think I'm alright I'd rather move in as fast as possible.”  
Opening the folder, Castiel shoved some papers over to Dean's side. “These are copies from my employer, salary notice, letter of recommendations and some other info you might need.”

Raising an eyebrow in surprise Dean chuckled. “You like to come prepared?”

Castiel flashed a smile at him, blue eyes crinkling in amusement. “Always. I know how hard it is to find someone you are compatible with, and Charlie said you really needed someone so I thought I'd make the choice somewhat easier for you. Swear I'm not some psycho either. If it doesn't work out, I'll leave you in peace.”

A waiter came up to their table and after she took Castiel's order, they returned to their conversation.

“You are certainly taking this seriously. As am I. So what do you work with?”

“I'm a tattoo artist. I don't work full-time though, which is fine by me. I have time to paint some, maybe do a few commissions here and there.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Tattoo artist? That's cool. I've been thinking about getting one for years, but I'd have to hide it. Policy and all.”

“Oh, I thought those practices were out by now?” Castiel's eyes were on Dean, listening intently. 

He bet that Castiel had that handling with his customers too, a way of making each person feel cared for, relaxed and valued. It's like he had an ability to draw out their wants and desires just because they liked him and wanted to please them. Dean almost chuckled. He didn't need Castiel to draw out any wants or needs out of him, Dean was very much aware of what he desired then and there. After an hour Dean had already decided that if Castiel still wanted to be his room-mate he'd say yes.

*****************************

 

All of Castiel's things were unpacked, sorted out and the moving boxes were cleared out on the third day; Dean knew from that point on that living with Castiel was going to work out very well. After seven days together, when Dean got home from work there was a pot on the stove, something simmering and spreading a frankly mouth-watering aroma in the apartment.

“You cooking?” Dean asked surprised as he put down his bag on the floor in the hall. Castiel, or Cas that Dean had started to call him, poked his head out from the kitchen.

“I hope you don't mind. I didn't have any late clients today, and you were working late with that meeting you said you had to attend. I didn't know preschool-teachers had so many meetings.”

Entering the kitchen, Dean sighed in frustration. “Me neither, they don't tell you that. We totally deserve a salary increase.” Inhaling deeply, Dean licked his lips. “What are you making, it smells awesome.”

“Oh, spaghetti and meat sauce. It's done if you are hungry. The tomato-base has been simmering for hours. It will blow your mind.”

 _I wish you could blow something else then my mind_.

Blinking Dean sighed. Jesus, he needed to get laid. He didn't really know if Cas was interested in him that way, and he had just gotten to know him. Complicating things right now would be a really bad idea and the last thing he wanted was to scare away a really good room-mate. He even folded the underwear for Christ's sake!

Glancing at the dinner-table brought Dean to a halt. “Um... what is this Cas?” 

Castiel turned around, his ocean blue eyes huge. “Oh, sorry Dean. I was going to clear that away before you came, but then I started cooking, and it slipped my mind.” Walking over to the oak table Cas did a dramatic pose. “This is a Klingon Vor'cha attack cruiser. Isn't she beautiful? I've made her from scratch, just like the tomato-sauce. Painted every detail, now all that is left is some heavy assembly. One of the biggest warships, eighteen disruptor cannons, capacity for almost two thousand men – ”

“Well I understood about half of that. She does look a bit like an Enterprise ship. Klingons, those were the war-people, right?”

Cas stared as Dean like he had been personally offended. “War-people? Oh Dean. I thought you knew Charlie but obviously she didn't impart her good taste in shows on you. You never asked how me and her met.”

“Okay, how did you and Charlie meet?”

Castiel grinned. “At a Star Trek convention.” 

Of course they had met at a convention, Dean thought. He wasn't in the least surprised. 

“We need to do a movie marathon when you have time and watch some Star-Trek.” Castiel continued. “This weekend. I can select a few movies, we make a huge load of pop corn and just binge-watch.”

 _You can do me_. Dean needed to tell his brain to shut the fuck up but he had a feeling it wouldn't listen. Grabbing some salad from the fridge and a knife from a drawer Dean answered without pause. “Sounds like a date.”

*****************************

“So, how about a date?” Cas asked Dean in the middle of dinner one night, eight weeks and five days after he had moved in with him. He was his usual self, but there was something mischievous in how he half-smiled, how he tilted his head to the side. Wishing that they had something else besides cauliflower soup was stupid on Dean's part. It wasn't Cas fault that he dropped the spoon so it splashed hot liquid all over him.

“Wha- what? A date?” Dean stammered. His mind tried to rapidly process what was happening but came up blank.

Cas reached over the table and grabbed a paper towel. “Here you go.”

Dean took it and started wiping away the soup from his pants. He quickly realized that he was just stalling and basically just rubbing his crotch with paper like a fool. 

“So what do you say?” Cas said evenly, eating his soup. “Good soup right? The key is bacon fat.”

“I'm just – “

“Surprised that I suspected? Surprised that I like you back? Dean, have you seen yourself in the mirror? You are basically sex walking on two legs. You are a nice guy, a really sweet guy. You have watched all the Star Trek movies with me for what, four weekends in a row, although it clearly pained you. What's the name of that move Spock does to render someone unconscious?”

Dean made a face. “The Vulcan... grip?” 

Castiel laughed. “No. It's a nerve pinch.” He continued. “I've made dinner for you for over a week now. I've seen the looks you give me.”

“I thought you liked to cook...” Dean said and groaned internally at the ridiculous answer.

Arching his eyebrow, Castiel grinned. “I do. I'd cook you some date dinner too.”

Finally daring a smile, Dean looked at Cas. “I think I'd like that Cas. You and me and a date.”

“Good”, Castiel said as he slurped his soup.


	30. Something amiss and missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weird things are going on at the bunker and Dean is in panic mode when something goes missing.
> 
> My mashup is Star Wars/creature. Rating is teen and up. Some foul language. Hope you enjoy this little story.  
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dean smiled as Cas, Jack and Sam entered the room. “Welcome to the Dean-cave and tonight's entertainment, guys.” 

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked past Dean. “You know you are the only one that calls it that, Dean?” 

“Not true, Sam. I've heard Cas say it too. Isn't that right Cas?”

Castiel interjected. “Only to please him, Sam. Dean has a certain fondness for this room.” Smiling Cas kissed Dean quickly on the cheek. 

“It looks really nice, Dean.”

Dean beamed at Castiel's words. “Thanks. I got you your favorite brand of sparkling water.”

Sighing, Sam sat down in the couch and grabbed a bowl of chips. As Jack entered the room he let out an appreciative sound. The light was dimmed, there were assorted bowls with snacks on the table together with bottles of beer. Some blankets were tossed in the corner together with soft pillows.

“Jack, you are on water duty. Blankets if it gets chilly. Snacks is a must.” 

Turning to Dean Jack asked, “How long are we going to be in here, Dean?”

Shrugging, Dean closed the door. The only items chasing away the darkness was the light of the TV and a few lamps spreading a soft glow that Dean had installed a few weeks back. “I was thinking two Star Wars movies to begin with, and then tomorrow we do two more.”

Jack grabbed a bottle of water and sat down cross-legged, a huge smile on his face. “That sounds good, Dean. Sam, can you grab me some chips?”

Two hours into the movie marathon, Dean elbowed Sam as his snoring was very distracting. Sam sat up with a start, looking around with a confused look on his face.

“I know the hunting business became redundant seven months ago Sam, but really? You falling asleep just like that, ignoring all sorts of ingrained instincts?”

Sam glared at Dean. “Most monsters are gone Dean, so yeah, sorry for finally enjoying being able to sleep more then a couple of hours a night. Are you telling me you only sleep four hours still?”

Dean's green eyes crinkled. “No, but I still get less hours then you. Cas keeps me busy.”

“Eww, Dean. That's a mental picture I really don't need to have.”

“Hey, you asked.” 

Castiel just sighed and grabbed Dean's hand, intertwining their fingers to pull his attention back to the movies.

*************  
The next morning Castiel woke up to Dean rummaging around in their closet. He was clearly looking for something. When he noticed Cas was awake he turned around quickly.

“Morning, sunshine. You slept good?”

Smiling, Cas answered. “Yes Dean, no nightmares about the Empire.” Looking around at the mess Dean had done, clothes on the ground, hangers tossed haphazardly on the floor he opened his mouth to ask what was going on but Dean was quicker.

“I'm... looking for something. Pretty sure I left it in a pocket in my shirt, but I can't find it anywhere.” There was a slight panic in his voice that Castiel took note of.

“Is everything alright, Dean?”

Straightening, Dean's lips twitched in what he thought was a reassuring smile. “It's cool, Cas. Everything is OK. By the way, did you by any chance fold my pants and socks and underwear yesterday?”

Castiel shook his head. 

“Everything is OK. I'm just … I need to talk to Sam about something.”

Leaving Cas to his own devices Dean walked briskly to Sam's room. Two quick knocks was all the warning Sam got before Dean entered. 

“Sammy, did you touch my clothes yesterday or fold the laundry? It has to be you cause I sure as hell hope it's not Jack. We don't let him do laundry after that incident he had last time. Something is missing.”

Turning to face Dean, Sam's eyes were still half-masted, his hair messy from sleep.

“Can't this wait Dean? What time is it anyway?”

“It's seven, you've had plenty of time for your beauty sleep. So did you touch my clothes?”

“No, Dean, go away.”

Shutting the door on the way out, Dean was trying not to panic. Taking a few breaths centered him. He was not going to freak out. Making his way to the kitchen, Jack was already up. He sat at the table, eating breakfast.

“Morning, Jack, what's the flavor of the day?”

“Morning, Dean.” Jack looked down in the bowl and wrinkled his forehead. “Um, I think it's called pumpkin spice. It's really good. You want some?”

Shaking his head no, Dean licked his lips. “Hey, listen, you haven't touched my clothes or anything, right? I know I was busy last night with the prep for the movies. Maybe you decided to fix my clothes? Or maybe you've seen a small – “

Castiel entered the kitchen, black hair tousled but his blue eyes alert. He wore a gray robe, his feet in a pair of slippers. Dean couldn't help but smile. Walking up to meet Castiel, they hugged, Dean nuzzling his face in the crook of Cas neck and inhaling. He smelled like he always did, of honey, cinnamon, Dean's favorite perfume and Cas, above all he smelled like Cas.

“No, Dean, I haven't touched the clothes.” he heard Jack reply.

*************  
Something was going on. Dean was not sure exactly what it was, but things had been off all day. What propelled him to take action and go talk to Sam was when he had entered the garage a couple hours after lunch and Baby was clean. Not just Dean-clean, cause he made a hell of a good job of keeping her polished and nice but fucking new-straight-form-the-conveyor-belt-clean. Dean went around Baby, admiring her but still he searched the entire car for hex bags, mystic powders, anything that would reveal what was going on. He found nothing.

“And not only that Sammy, I mean, I'm not complaining that Baby is looking fucking gorgeous but then there was my entire wardrobe being folded, my favorite silver coffee spoon is gone, the entire movie collection is sorted alphabetically, the hallway has been swept and there is a cookie-dough in the freezer. I was going to make cookies for the movies tonight but I sure as hell didn't make any dough yet.” 

Dean stopped pacing and whispered. “And my _thing_ is gone.”

Sam raised his eyebrows when understanding dawned on him. “Oh! Okay, sounds like you might be right.”

“I'm always right, Sammy.”

“Ok, don't do anything stupid, I'll check the lore.”

 

After one hour Sam found Dean in the game room- playing pool with Jack. Getting Dean's attention they went over to the bar to talk in private.

“OK, so get this. You said you were missing a silver spoon, and your _thing_. But more importantly, clothes being folded, items being cleaned, food being prepared, sounds about right?”

“Yes”, Dean agreed. “Even new wipers on Baby, and my mix tape of Disney songs is finished.”

“Your mix tape of – Anyways. I think we have a gnome in the Bunker.”

Dean looked surprised. “What, like a little elf in a red hat walking around stirring shit up and around?”

“No, not quite. Most of them live underground guarding treasure but some do rise, and get this, the reason they do so, is to help humans.”

“Help? Have you not heard what I've been saying? Stuff have disappeared, my _thing_ , Sammy!”

“They do like treasure. Probably why the spoon was gone too. You said the spoon was made out of silver right?”

Mumbling in agreement, Dean collected his thoughts. “OK, you are right, Sammy. Say it's this gnome thing. How do we kill it?”

Sam smiled. “We don't kill it, there is another way. Just to be safe I think we better wait until nighttime.”

*************

Dean looked at Jack, who was engrossed in the movie. Dean's eyes were on the TV, but his thoughts were elsewhere. It wasn't like he was missing anything. _The Phantom Menace_ , was kind of not OK for a Star Wars movie, not that Dean was ever going to confess that out loud so Sammy could hear. 

A gentle kiss on his neck took him back to the present. “You seem preoccupied, Dean.” 

Turning to Cas, Dean mumbled against his lips. “I've had some things on my mind and to be really honest, this is the worst Star Wars movie. Give me a few minutes, Cas. I'll go grab some fresh cookies from the kitchen and then I'll be with you again.”

Taking the jar with cookies from the counter Dean also grabbed a package of peanuts. He didn't know where to do this, the lore wasn't really precise on the location, so Dean started with the kitchen, spreading peanuts on the floor. _Take that you little bastard_. He did the same thing in Sam's and Jack's room, tossed some nuts in the hallways and for good measure he dropped some on the ground right as he entered the Dean-cave.

“Here you are guys. Chocolate chip cookies, made by yours truly. With the good kind of chocolate.” Now he could only keep his fingers crossed that everything would revert back to normal, and that his _thing_ would be were he left it.

Finally calling it a night Dean and Cas were in their room, getting ready for bed. 

“Cas, you go turn on the shower. I'll be with you in a minute.” 

Dean listened for the sound of water running against tiles and as soon as he heard the glass doors open to the shower he went to the closest. Going thought the shirts until he found the one he was looking for – a plaid one, with muted greens and blues- he dug into the pocket and his fingers closed around a little box. His heart beat quicker with joy and Dean couldn't help but to do a little jump. He was going to kiss Sammy for this, him and his gnome lore.

Putting the tiny box in his nightstand drawer he went and joined Cas in the shower.  
“I saved you some warm water, Dean.” Castiel's wet hair covered his eyes and Dean batted it away, kissing his neck and mouth. Cas was onboard and as they kissed, Dean could feel Cas hard cock against him.

“Quick shower and then let's take this to the bedroom,” Dean murmured.

They tumbled down in bed, Castiel's mouth on his. Dean was on his back, enjoying how Cas trailed his wet mouth further down. Turning his head to the right he saw the nightstand. No more distractions, time to do this. 

Dean put a gentle hand on Cas shoulder and got his attention, those sapphire eyes looking up at him with nothing but love and desire.

Dean's heart twisted. “Come, here Cas.” 

Cas smiled. “Mm, you sure you don't want me to continue? I have a wicked tongue.”

Laughing, Dean patted on the empty space next to him. “I know all about that tongue, Cas. We can do this later, I just want to hold you.”

Climbing up, and nestling himself close to Dean, Castiel sighed. “I approve of holding too.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence between them that Dean wanted to keep in memory forever.

“I love you Cas. I know we have had one fucked up journey. I don't want to count how many times we have died for each other, all the things that have passed between us. Screw normal couples right?” 

Castiel turned to his side, so he could look at Dean. 

“But no matter what, you always had faith in me. You've always been there for me. I may have been confusing, and I had a ton of stuff to work through to finally feel – to get why you loved me, you know. To get to this place where I guess I love myself for who I am, too.”

Dean was so grateful that Cas was just listening. If Cas had interrupted him, he would have lost all the words that needed out.

“I guess, what I'm trying to say is I'm happy around you and I'm happy with what we got together. Not just you and me, but Sam and Jack and Mom too.” Reaching to the drawer in the nightstand, he opened it and grabbed the little box. Cas attention was still on him. 

“You are human now... so I thought maybe we could do a very human thing. You love me, I love you.” Dean dared to finally open the lid of the box. A plain ring in white gold and platinum stood out against a black backdrop. “So, want to marry me Cas?”

Castiel's smile was wide, his face soft and his eyes were glistening with tears threatening to spill.

“Um... those happy tears or you got something in your eye, Cas?”

Cas laughed as his hands went up to Dean's face, kissing him hard. “Yes, Dean, the answer is yes. I'd love to marry you.”

With trembling hands Dean took the ring and slid it over Cas finger. 

“It looks good on you, Castiel Winchester.” Smiling Cas trailed a finger over Dean's chest. “I like the sound of that, Dean. Is that why you have been acting so weird lately?”

“I have not been acting weird but OK maybe a little. Now I feel a ton lighter. This has been on my mind for days.” Suddenly realizing how much tension had dropped from him, Dean felt dead-tired.

Wrapping an arm over Castiel, Dean kissed him lazily. “Mm, let's do the sexy-time tomorrow. I think my body wants shut-eye time instead.”

Smiling, Cas turned into Dean's hug. “Good night, future husband Dean.”

“Good night, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on actual lore ; )
> 
> The gnomes like shiny and valuable things and one kind of gnomes did house-chores for humans so they could get more leisure time during the day. According to one legend, a way to get rid of the gnomes was to spread out peas on the floor. The gnomes tripped on the peas, got furious and left your home alone. I'm sure peanuts works as well.


	31. Preparations for Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel prepare for a Halloween-party. There is smut in this one!
> 
> Happy Halloween <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this marks the end for the Drabbles and Promptober of 2018. I've had a blast writing a lot of different scenarios and realized I really enjoy writing sweet stuff. To my big surprise since I usually like to read dark, heavy stuff. I've also reached my personal goal of 50,000 written words which considering everything (everything meaning a toddler) is a feat, lol.
> 
> Thank you to those who have followed me along the way, and thank you to those who have read bits and pieces. Thanks for the kudos and comments. Basically, just thank you. =)  
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Will there be apple-bobbing?” Castiel whispered as he kissed Dean behind the ear, trailing down to his neck.

Dean made a questioning face. “Apple- No, Cas, there will be no fucking apple-bobbing. Why are we talking about this anyway?”

Castiel speared his fingers through Dean's hair, arching his head back and sucked hard on Dean's exposed throat. Letting go Cas admired the mark that appeared, a visible claim, something tangible that said Dean belong to him. The thought almost made Castiel chuckle; as if the golden ring on Dean's hand wasn't sign enough. His thoughts were interrupted as said husband whined in frustration. 

“We are talking about it, cause I want to talk about it.” With one hand on Dean's chest, Castiel pushed him down on the bed. “Are the preparations done?”

Dean couldn't help the grin that spread across his skin. “Yes, Sir. All ready for you.”

Smiling Castiel stood at the edge of the bed, taking in the sight of Dean. His forest green eyes were glued on him, his lips swollen from all the kissing they've done, chest heaving from excitement. Going lower, Dean's cook was hard and ready for everything Castiel had in mind.

“I was talking about the dessert. Did you prepare the dough and pies?” Castiel asked, grinning. “I've never met anyone with a bigger sweet tooth then Sam, well that was before Charlie came along. And don't you dare roll your eyes at me.”

Sighing, Dean moved an inch making room for Castiel. “Yes, Sir, it's all done.”

Castiel just hummed. “Spread your legs more.” Dean did as he was told, opening himself up for Castiel, who took hold of the plug and slowly removed it.

“Fuck Cas,” Dean moaned. “I want you inside me right now.” 

“All in good time.”

As he caressed Dean's balls, Dean writhed, seeking Castiel's hand and fingers, urging Castiel silently to fill him up. Shoving two fingers inside Dean, Castiel kissed his stomach, licking and tasting his skin, slightly salty as Dean expressed sighs and cries of pleasure. Spreading his fingers he started pumping in and out of Dean's hole. “You think you can take my cock now?”

“Fuck, yes, I've waited so long.” Dean mumbled incoherent and gripped tight on Cas' arms, trying to push himself down on Cas' fingers. “Yes, Sir. I'm so fucking ready.”

Dean's cock was wet with precome, leaving stains on his stomach. “Not that long Dean, just one hour or so.” Castiel pumped his fingers faster and then pulled out, extracting a moan of pleasure from Dean.

“Jesus, how can you be so fucking calm?” Dean complained. 

Castiel grabbed Dean's legs and hoisted him closer to him. Wrapping his hand around his hard cock Castiel stroke himself a couple of times, noticing Dean's gaze on him. 

“You like what you see?” Castiel looked down on Dean, perfectly calm himself, but Dean was at his wits end. Positioning the head at Dean's entrance he slowly pushed at his hole, just enough to tease but not enough to actually enter him.

“God, Cas, seriously, you are killing me.”

“What was that, Dean?” Castiel arched an eyebrow, gripping Dean's legs tight. Hissing, Dean couldn't keep his eyes of Cas, trying to will him with his mind to just push in and fuck him senseless.

Dean could feel Cas' cock right there, pressing and teasing. It felt like this had been going on for hours and he was about to burst. The thought of not having Cas' cock inside him when that happened made him sigh in frustration. 

“Sorry, Sir, I'm will, um... control myself?” He tried to sound as calm as Cas was but he failed miserably. If he was honest the thought of Cas being cool and in control when Dean clearly wasn't was a huge turn on. 

Laughing, Castiel kept the pressure there. “I'm sure you will Dean. So what are we going to have for dinner?” When the last word left Castiel's lips he entered Dean all the way, his cock bottoming out. 

Dean tried to focus but all he could think of was Cas and his dick, how he felt so full, how his hole stretched around Cas' cock and the why the fuck didn't Cas move?

“Answer me.”

Trying to assemble his thoughts, Dean remembered Castiel's last question. Dinner. “Um.. potato dauph, fuck – “

Castiel started moving, thrusting his hips and hitting that sweet spot inside Dean with his cock, that he had craved all morning. But as soon as Dean stopped trying to answer Cas' ridiculous question, Cas stopped moving. He just stood there, hips near Dean's balls, cock buried deep inside.

“Potato dauphinoise.” Cas started moving again, faster this time, and Dean let his head fall back on the mattress. Fucking finally. It was a punishing speed, not that Dean minded. He could take anything right now, anything but Castiel stopping.“Lamb...fuck, chops.” The last slip up was apparently acceptable because Cas was still pounding him hard. 

Grunting Dean tried to ignore the heat of desire, coiling low inside him. Castiel was panting now but other then that he could as well been on a run or watching paint dry, while Dean was going to come any second now.

“And salad.” Dean finished just to be on the safe side. 

“Good boy.” Castiel caressed Dean's chest, fingers playing with one nipple, flickering and eliciting another moan from Dean. He was beautiful, all sweaty, cheeks flushed and he was totally under Castiel's thumb. Castiel pinched hard, nails digging in. Dean hissed and tried to move away but as he did Castiel grabbed him by the hips using that as leverage to fuck him harder.

Cas' cock was made for him and each thrust hit that sweet spot and fire was coursing though him. “God, Cas,” was the only warning that Dean could utter, his whole body tensing up before he came undone, his cock spurting ropes of come over himself.

Castiel slowed down, but still thrust lazily with his hips inside Dean until he stopped twitching. Then he pulled out.

“I would have prolonged this, but we've got a lot to prepare for the Halloween- party and you have pies to bake,” Castiel whispered, kissing Dean's jaw.

“I'm not sure I could have handled a prolonged session, Cas,” Dean muttered. Glancing at Castiel's still hard cock he licked his lips. “You want me to help you with that?”

“After you are done with your pies, Dean. I have self-control unlike you...”

“Fuck you, Cas.”

“I'd rather fuck you again, sweetie.” Castiel kissed Dean on the cheek. “You are the master of sweet things in this household. Now, go shower, I'll be with you in a minute.”

Before shutting the door the the bathroom, Dean shouted. “Don't care that you fucked me good, there will still be no apple-bobbing, Cas.”


End file.
